Forever, Everlasting
by Margo Vizzini-Montoya
Summary: What if Bella wasn't unique? What if Bella and Edward's story could occur again to another hopelessly mix-matched pair? It's nine years later. The Cullens have taken in another stray. And their idyllic life is about to be intruded upon, yet again...
1. Prologue Alice

Prologue – Alice

I began my wind up knowing that as soon as I released the ball it would go to the lower right hand corner of the plate just above knee level and that Edward would hit for a long high line drive towards left of center. If I added just enough spin, it would fly more towards center and have just enough arc to …

Ah!

Images flickered across my field of vision. Images that were all disjointed like badly restored Picasso paintings and interspersed with blinding white flashes. As fleeting as they were, they made their presence known to my psyche like railroad spikes being driven into my temple.

_Darkness. Pain. A girl screaming, her face contorted in agony._

**Flash.**

_ Blood pooling on a concrete floor, splashed across a lone office chair, dripping from chains that hung from the ceiling._

**Flash.**

_ Hands that looked like ground hamburger meat. _**Flash.**

The images came faster.

_ A snake flying through the air, sinking its fangs into already battered flesh._

**Flash.**_ Darkness, pain, screaming._

**Flash.**_ Eyes dark with despair and tears that trailed down a cheek, intermingling with the blood already pouring from a deep cut._

**Flash.**

_ Blood. Raw, torn flesh. Bones. And more blood. _

**Flash.**

_ Darkness. Agony. Hopelessness._

**Flash.**

_ Pale Death._

By the time that this _episode_, had ceased, I was on my knees, holding my center, rocking back and forth, and panting to catch my breath. If I could cry, I would have. I would have cried from the pain of the flashes, the pain of trying to focus on the highly chaotic graphic images, the pain of trying to keep a hold on reality, the pain of the anguish that I somehow knew my family and I would feel if this premonition came true. But most importantly, I would have cried for the girl.

Jasper's soothing presence began to permeate my consciousness. I welcomed it, leaning into him and relaxing once he knelt next to me. After a few more moments of deep breathing exercises, I was able to clear my mind of the horror that I had just witnessed and focus on the present.

"Are you alright, Alice?" Esme asked concernedly for the second time.

I nodded my head – slowly – and replied softly, "My head hurts, but I'm okay. Just give me a moment."

That was enough for everyone to back off and give me some space, except for Jasper and Edward, who was looking at me curiously. Before he could ask if we needed to be worried about what I saw, as I knew he would if I didn't say anything, I shook my head.

In that little gesture, I did convey the truth. The vision was fading into oblivion and had lost its sense of urgency. Moreover, as disturbing as it was, it didn't seem that there could be anything that I could do about it…at least not yet. I hadn't met or ever seen the girl before, which didn't mean I wouldn't in the future. Until then, I would not, nor should my family, worry about it.

That decided, I stood up, gave Jasper a light peck on the cheek, and called out, "Play ball!" just as a loud rumble of thunder crashed overhead.

The air crackled with energy, and this time, Edward was not going to make it beyond second base. Carlisle and my curve ball would see to that.


	2. Chapter 1 The Debut

Chapter 1 – The Debut 

So here I am back in the same very little town my mother escaped from to fulfill her dreams and start anew, the same little town that I spent summers at trying ever so hard to not be a snobby little city girl. My room is still the same with its beautifully carved furniture (not that my dad could do any less) and childhood sketches and paintings. It even had a few of Billy's tiny little ceramic sculptures. I turned my gaze to my favorite part of the room – the window with its view of mysterious dense forest – in order to distract myself from the overwhelmingly depressing thoughts of why I was here in the first place. I must have been doing a really good job because I was quite startled by –

"Cadie! Come on down I have a surprise for you!" At this ominous announcement from Ian Darby, my father, I grimaced. The last time he "surprised" me, he had bought me a kitten from the elementary school's librarian, who I think at the time was trying to rid herself of the title of old maid by being overly helpful to my clueless father. The problem, however, is that I'm can't-breathe-I'm-so-allergic to the feline species. Billy liked the cat though. He named her Whisper because "that's all anyone hears before she pounces on 'em." It was quite clever for Billy, and a fact that I could attest to. And on that nostalgic note, I dashed down the stairs and out the door to meet my doom.

I was greeted with the site of a half-beaming, half-anxious father and this old beat-up, paint-free, coffin-totin'-looking vehicle.

"It runs pretty good. I had Old Tink and his boy look it over and do their magic," he stated most likely to reassure me and fill in the silence.

"Where'd you get it?" was the only thing that I could coherently put together in my awe.

"Oh, it was Alan's. You know my poker buddy." He shrugged, "He, uh, manages the bed-and-breakfast for his mother."

"What? Did the old biddy finally tighten the purse strings?" I teased.

He smiled abashedly as he rubbed the back of his neck, "Yeah, and it's probably about time, since the poor hen-pecked bastard can't bluff to save his life." I smiled at this. Ian would have won this marvelous contraption off of a poor sap at a poker game. I must have been making him even more nervous because as he rocked back and forth on his heels, he interjected in his cute stumbling way, "I, uh, hope you don't mind that it's got, er, no paint. I would've had Zach paint it, but I figured you might like to do that yourself…"

I finally relented and expressed to Ian my adoration for the Hearse, "Oh, no, of course, I want to! It's totally fine with me the way it is…" I walked over and peered in the window to check out the interior. Navy blue dash cover and seats, which were bench-like. Zebra or tiger striped steering wheel cover. An incredibly old radio. Stick-shift. There was a backseat, and sadly no coffin.

I opened the door and sat in the driver's seat to get the feel of the car. Ian walked over and indicated that I should roll down the window so he could give me the keys. I did so, and started up the contraption; it purred its eagerness quite loudly making me grin even more. This gift would definitely not be sneaking up on anyone.

I got out of the car, kissed Ian on the cheek, and put on my most bummed out face. "It's great, Dad. _But_ now I won't be able to tell my children that I walked uphill both ways in the snow to school!"

He let out a relieved chuckle at this and shooed me back into the house with, "Watch it young lady or it will come to that on Monday as I take this fine vehicle for myself."

"And go where? You work from home." I threw over my shoulder as I made my way into the house to finish unpacking.

* * *

Sunday night finds me looking around my disaster of a room, as I searched for an outfit to wear for tomorrow. I normally am not someone who worries too much about clothes, but that is because I was one among thousands at my secondary school, easily lost in the crowd. Now, I am one among 350 or so, where everybody knows everybody, and I am definitely the New Girl.

I looked at myself in the mirror cataloguing my features: 5' 5.5" tall, enough curves to not be confused with a boy, shoulder length ruddy brown hair that my mother called "lovely chestnut," green-greyish eyes that were so big that they made me look like I was permanently astonished at my surroundings, an okay nose, pink lips that were not too big and not too thin, white even teeth, a pointy chin that jutted out there like a ski-jump slope, and cheeks that flushed like never ending fireworks on the background of sickly pale (since it was impossible for my skin to tan to even a peachy color). At this, I decided not to wear my red cashmere sweater that my mother said brought out my hair's highlights, leaving me with ... "98 options to go, 98 options to go, try one out, toss it about, 97 options to go…" I could hear my friend Ashley's voice singing in the back of my mind.

"Screw it!" Stick to your rule of thumb: Go with what's comfortable because that is what you are going to do a few weeks from now anyways. Favorite jeans? Check. Favorite super soft gray long sleeve mock turtleneck? Check. Favorite blue downy-filled vest jacket thing? Check. Favorite fleece-lined boots? Double check.

At this I threw everything that was on my bed into the open suitcases lying on the floor of my closet and climbed into bed seeking oblivion.

I must have found it quite rapidly because the next thing I remember is my cell-phone vibrating like mad to my alarm. I hit the snooze two or three more times, or so I thought. It must have been more like four or five, because by the time I got out of bed there was no way I could straighten my hair and get to school early to get my schedule. This was just peachy because apparently this morning my hair decided to go extra-wavy in a not so attractive way. "Messy bun, it is." I grumbled to myself.

When I got downstairs, I noticed a thermos and some toast thoughtfully wrapped up in foil by Ian. The man is learning. The last time he tried to wake me up so I could have a "hearty" breakfast of either greasy eggs and meat scraps (a.k.a. bacon and sausage) or soggy piles of pancakes dripping in sticky sugary goop, I threw the nearest object I could sleepily reach at his head. It happened to be one of the steel-toed boots that he bought me to wear around his workshop. This recollection made me fondly remember, as I tore out of the house and raced to the car, the next gift he got me: a shirt that said, "Don't wake up Grumpy. Let her sleep in."

My mad dashing stopped as I realized that Ian had also cleared my car and the drive way of snow. I had to blink back tears or else they would freeze to my face making my waxy looking complexion even more candle-like. As I waited for the Hearse to warm up, I ate my breakfast and drank my coffee, mentally rehearsing the directions to the school that Ian had drilled into me all weekend.

The drive into town was not too bad. Apparently the town was well-off enough to keep the main roads clear. It took about twenty minutes. It could have been faster but I was extremely nervous to be driving the Hearse for the first time on these slick roads and quite reluctant to reach my destination to begin with. However, I finally arrived, not making one u-turn (unless you count going into the junior high parking lot across the street and back out again), and pulled into the empty secondary school parking lot. I silently thanked Ian for his ultra-thoughtfulness as that allowed me to be extra early so not even the swots were there yet and gave me time to get the lay of the land.

It was way smaller than what I was used to. It had about half a dozen brick buildings surrounded by trees, mostly pine. Only two of the buildings were multiple stories. One looked to be the gym. The small building off to the left appeared to be the office, so I grabbed my bag and headed that direction.

After entering the front door, I was immediately blasted with heat but incongruously also hit by the air blown from the fan sitting behind the woman at the front desk. At seeing my bamboozled expression as I looked at the fan, she chuckled and with a very breathy and high-pitched voice explained, "Oh, yes, that does seem rather odd, doesn't it? Well, I am experiencing that phase of life that all women go – "

At that I interrupted her, "My name is Cadie Darby. I'm, uh, here for my class schedule…"

She immediately began babbling about something that I promptly tuned out because one needs more than one cup of even Ian's extra strong java to withstand that nails-on-the-chalkboard voice of torture. I was saved from her ramblings when another student walked in and began taking his jacket off.

While she was distracted by this new arrival, I grabbed the form she had been jabbering about and raced out the door promising to have all the teachers sign it by the end of the day. I also grabbed the map that she had provided but folded that up and stuffed it in my pocket after only figuring out where my first class, pre-calculus, was.

I made my way over there, taking a deep breath, and stepped through the door. The class was a little over halfway filled up. The teacher, a Mr. Klein, indicated after he signed my paper that I was to take a seat wherever. I chose the back row seat next to a shy looking bookworm. She smiled at me over her new gadget magazine. The class finally got underway, and when he did roll call, he most generously did not announce my presence beyond that of calling my name; however, even with that most of the students turned to look at me.

Everything was going on swimmingly for about ten minutes or so before the event happened, which I like to call My Debut. Mr. Klein was going on about standard deviations, while the students were either finishing their REM cycles or studiously taking notes, when my cell phone went off. I would have ignored it, but I had set it to only do that when there was an emergency text. Once I was finally able to get it out of my bag and read it, I jumped up, inelegantly hopped over the bags and legs jutting out into the aisle, and sprinted outside.

Two innocuous words had been on that screen, just two, but it was who they were sent from that caused a chill to run throughout my body, straight to my heart, that not even my favorite downy-filled blue jacket vest thing could warm.

"Call me," - Lottie


	3. Chapter 2 Introductions

Chapter 2 - Introductions

"Hey Evan!"

I turned at this to see Emmett's cheeky grin and a package come soaring towards my head.

"Wear them before you go in!" I grimaced at him as I caught what appeared to be earplugs, and then reluctantly made my way from the parking lot to the office. Sure enough, Emmett was right; I should have worn them before I went in. That woman's voice is enough to make a saint go postal, and a saint, I am not.

I was able to make my way to the back part of the office undisturbed, when she was distracted by the girl leaving the office in a decided but understandable hurry, yelling something about teachers and forms.

I put the package in a pocket of my bag for tomorrow morning. I don't need them now because, well, she won't be headed back here to chat with me. If she needs anything, she'll just email me. This leaves me to do my work, daydream, and my favorite activity of the hour – watch the poor mortals scurry about their almost pointless business.

Ten minutes into this pastime, a girl dashes out of her classroom, only to stop to pace as she has an extended but what appears to be deeply disturbing conversation, judging by her frantic arm movements intermixed with nose bridge pinching, forehead rubbing, and hair pulling. I was beginning to get worried, when she finally hung up, slowly sinking to the ground to lean back and rest her head against the wall with knees drawn up. At this point, Mrs. Tyler sent me an email requesting that I copy something or other, so I did not see her go in.

Well, it was a nice break from the monotony of my existence.

* * *

I attempted to sneak back into class without causing too much disruption. I was marginally successful in that Bubba in the far back row did not wake up from his near comatose state, but then I suspect not even Godzilla or the Terminator could have done that.

After class, the short freckled boy who was sitting in front of Gadget Girl asked me if I knew where my next class was. It took me a minute to comprehend his question but I finally replied that it was English literature.

"With who?" interjected the guy who had been sitting next to me. He was kind of cute, my befuddled brain noted, in a gangly puppy dog sort of way. "Umm…Schueler?" I read off my schedule.

His eyes lit up and he smiled real wide. Yep, a puppy dog. "That's my next class. I'll show you the way," he continued. I noticed out of the corner of my eye that the other kid looked slightly bummed and only got his stuff together when Gadget Girl cleared her throat quite loudly for the second time. I smiled when she rolled her eyes at me from behind her glasses as she squeezed by.

My attention was returned to Puppy Dog, when he opened the door for me saying, "My name is Cortland, Max Cortland." I took all my will power not to giggle at his imitation of the traditional 007 introduction. "I'm Cadie Darby."

"Caddy? I thought it was Cadence…"

Great. Small town gossip was announcing my full name. I'd be correcting people for months. "It is. I just prefer to go by Cadie. It sounds like l_a_dy or sh_a_dy."

"Oh." Nothing followed this, and I was saved from him asking about my odd behavior in class by finally reaching our destination.

"I have to have the teacher sign this," I apologized.

"No problem. I'll save you a seat." Not that he needed to. Mrs. Schueler was one of those who liked her students seated alphabetically. This arrangement luckily did not have me seated in the front.

The girl to the left of me leaned over, "My name is Emilee Graham. You must be Cadence Darby."

"It's C_a_die Darby," Max corrected before I could, appearing quite proud of being able to understand that nuance. I smiled a hello at the stylish but seemingly friendly girl just before she turned to face the teacher, who proceeded to inform us that we would be studying Poe for the next few weeks. I let out a quiet sigh of relief at this. Poe was an old friend so I need not pay attention too closely as I dealt with being the New Girl and now the added stress of what my disturbing phone call had produced.

At the end of class, Max turned around to predictably ask me what my next class was but before he could do so I supplied, "Chemistry with Hoffman." The dejected Basset Hound look crossed his face before changing to euphoria, "Hey, Emilee's taking biology next door. She can show you the way. Can't you, Em?" he asked hopefully.

I have to give her credit. She recovered very well from the shock his enthusiasm must have induced. She smiled kindly, and said, "Sure no prob, Cadie. Besides this will give me a chance to pump you about the latest fashions from Quebec. You are from Quebec, aren't you?" I nodded, and then was treated to the Fashion Inquisition that she promised all the way to class.

My new hero took the form of Mr. Freckles, who interrupted question number 239 about only Barbara-Millicent-Roberts-knows-what, with "Hey, long time, no see …?"

"Cadie."

"And thanks for showing me the way, Emilee," I tossed over my shoulder as I squeezed past him into the room, while he was processing my name by mouthing it over and over to himself.

Mr. Hoffman signed my paper and then had me stand at the front while he tried to figure out who didn't have a lab partner. I didn't know whether to groan or cheer inwardly, when he indicated for me to take a seat next to "Jeffrey Toombs," (a.k.a. Mr. Freckles). The girl on the other side of me was sitting next to Gadget Girl. She had short black hair, dark eye-liner, and purple eye shadow. Removing the pencil tucked behind her ear, she leaned over and whispered, "Just to warn you, they say that his last name is Tombs because of how many lab partners are in need of them by the end of the semester." She chuckled at what I assume she thought was my terrorized expression; but I was beyond caring at this point, so it must have just been my permanently abnormal orbs.

The only way I made it through that class was that I had to write notes like mad to keep up with Mount Hoffman's erupting flow of knowledge about the properties of whatever group of elements. As annoyed as my hand was at the insane rate I was pushing it to go, it was a welcome distraction to my mind's mental alarm of "WARNING! WARNING! Overload of the emotional synapses! WARNINIG!" I swear the Star Trek red alert siren was blaring in my mental current playlist.

Joker Girl (Regan Parker) gave me directions to my next class, world history with Palmer. I don't know if he was one of those teachers who try to randomly pick students to call on and fail or he was making a point that he does not go easy on even the new girl because he asked me an extraordinary amount of questions. I fortunately knew the answers to them, thanks to my mistake of grabbing my history book instead of the classic novel I was hoping for to read on my way up here.

On my way out, Emilee saw me behind her friends and invited me to eat lunch with them. I followed quite meekly as they chattered away about their New Year's Eve party. Apparently some guy drunkenly kissed the local pastor's daughter instead of her wanton cousin at midnight, or it may have been the pastor's son who was kissed drunkenly by his wanton cousin. Ick. My nearly non-existent appetite had decreased to that of Thumbelina's dust bunnies' at both the conversation and from the sight of the special.

My phone buzzed. It was Ian so I picked up. "Yes, Dad?" I answered as I tried to hear him over the people in line.

"Hey Cadie. Your school's librarian called me to tell me that you received a phone call today that seemed to upset you…"

"Would this be the same librarian who recommended Whisper?" What the heck, I knew this town was small and the school even smaller, but that small?

He chuckled at the other end, "Yeah, I think it is." She's still hankering after my father? Creepy. "But that's beside the point. What's wrong Cadie?"

"Nothing that's not under control now. Lottie, you know Charlotte Matthews? She called me." I noticed that it got quiet around me all of a sudden so I said, "I'll tell you all about it tonight Pops, but I'm getting lunch write now. Okay?"

"Yeah, okay." He agreed reluctantly. "How's your day going?"

"Fine, Dad. Later. Tonight. Okay? Goodbye," and I hung up, grabbing a couple of pieces of fruit and a bottle of juice and made my way to the cash register.

While there I was approached by a tall lanky jock. "No need to pay for that, little lady. An angel like you probably doesn't even have the earthly currency to do so anyways."

While I stood by in shock, I received the death glare of my life from Gossip Girl One. I finally managed to come out of it, when I noticed he was struggling to give the exact amount since the cashier did not have change for his large bill. I handed her a smaller denomination trying not to smirk at the poor guy as I made my way with Emilee and the others to the table where Max was sitting.

They thankfully did not ask me too many questions as the aforesaid events and subsequent drama were much more entertaining.

* * *

I was greeted by Emmett at lunch with his usual amusement at my social discomfort. "So Evan what took you so long?" he asked as he thumped me on the back.

I shrugged off his hand and rolled my eyes, "As if Alice didn't already tell you." He just grinned before turning back to Rosalie, and Alice pushed over my plate of what I guessed to be the cafeteria's special of the day. It was as unappealing as ever.

My musings of what were the original ingredients of this repast were interrupted when Edward nudged me with his foot and said, "Do you see the new girl over there who is just about to pay for her food?" I indicated that I did, while observing her turn down the assistance of the Prince of Pitiable Pick-Up Lines and remembering her strange behavior this morning. "Can you 'persuade' her at all?"

At this I focused on the girl and noticed that she hadn't chosen very much to eat. So I _thought_ at her to go back and get something else. Nothing happened. It's not that I hadn't encountered strong resistant minds before; it's just that there was NOTHING there to mentally suggest at.

At my confused expression, Edward asked, "Can you feel her mind at all?"

When I shook my head, Bella became intrigued and asked, "What? There's a freak like me out there?"

Edward rolled his eyes, "You are not a freak. And no, her mind to me is more like your dad Charlie's. I can get an impression of her emotional thoughts but not the exact wording. How about you, Jasper?"

"Her emotions are there, but very fuzzy," he replied with a quizzical expression.

We all then turned to Alice. She looked over at her, stiffened, and then shrugged, "She's not one of us, so I can't sense anything at all."

"But you could sense my future…?" Bella interjected.

"Yeah, but that was because your fate was tied to Edward's," she explained, but something about this seemed to be bothering her as she was pursing her lips into a grimace.

I was going to ask her what was wrong, but Rosalie inserted with an irritated sniff, "Well, then, if her fate is not tied with one of ours, does it matter that she's not like the others?"

"Don't be like that, Baby," Emmett said in an attempt to sooth her. "They're just curious, is all."

While their conversation continued in the background, Edward, Jasper, and I looked at each other. Each of us knew that this was not just idle curiosity. The survival of our way of life depended entirely on the predictably of those whom we were trying to fool. This chit of a girl was to be watched if we were to protect ourselves from discovery.

* * *

**AN: **Next chapter title - "The Cute Meet"


	4. Chapter 3 The Cute Meet

Chapter 3 – The Cute Meet

I made my way to French class somewhat revived from my dose of all natural sugar. Emilee escorted me before traipsing off to her advanced algebra class with the Lame Pick-Up Lines King. Ms. Girard signed my paper, and I swiftly sat down in the only available seat in the back row. I pulled out my notebook and pens having enough energy to want to color coordinate my notes. Who am I kidding? I wanted to add color to my doodles. Ideas had begun percolating in my mind for how I wanted to paint the Hearse.

I became so engrossed in this that I nearly missed Ms. Girard instructing us to greet, in French, our semester's conversational partners. I looked around trying to figure who was mine, when a throat cleared to the left of me.

"Merde," and of course, there went the erupting fireworks across my ever so pale complexion, while he remained stupefying-ly gorgeous. He was tall and lean except for his very broad shoulders. He had curly black hair that made one's fingers twitch to play with, and odd golden eyes surrounded by long sooty looking eyelashes. "Um, I mean, _mon nom est Cadie Darby_."

"Evan Keegan," he simply said in a lilting Irish accent as he half-smiled and half-grimaced. I was about to ask him if he was alright (or if he had tried the cafeteria's special, because, if so, I was gonna recommend he go to the hospital and get his stomach pumped), when Bubba from pre-calculus re-adjusted his desk in front of me so much that it bumped mine, knocking my collection of pens to the ground. I dove for them, my hands brushing up against his as we both tried to reach them.

"Um, sorry…" I apologized, somewhat stunned at the shock that was produced by that smallest of contact.

"No problem," he tersely replied handing me the rest of my pens and abruptly facing forward.

I hope he is a more talkative person than he was today, or we are going to be the worst conversation partners Ms. Girard has ever seen, especially since it seems that I have inherited Ian's gift of articulation. I let out a soft sigh. Well, I've embarrassed myself in at least two of my classes and P.E. is next. I'm doomed.

* * *

As I got into the Hearse, I reflected on the last hour of my life. I am unsure of what I did exactly to earn the wrath of Tiffany, Emilee's friend; unless it was because she heard my snort at her two-year-old tantrum over a broken nail. I know they hurt, but she acted exactly like Lottie or Simon when they would bump their head against something – stop, look around and judge the reaction of those around them, and then cry if they think someone is watching them. After that she tried absurdly hard to hit the volleyball in my general direction every time, hoping, I guess, to embarrass me with my obvious lack of physical adeptness. However, at this point I don't give a fiddle-dee-dee about my deplorable skills in this department, and I was able to make another friend, one who seemed to share in my misery – Maggie Stefano.

_"I see you have two left feet too," A voice giggled behind me as I crammed my gym clothes into my bag._

_ I turned around to see a girl with black spiked hair with pink tips, freckles scattered across her nose and cheeks, and hoop lip ring. She was the one who had spiked the ball straight at Max's nose earlier. "I'm normally not so clumsy, unless of course I walk into a gym, onto a football or a baseball field, or onto a tennis court…"_

_ "Ha ha. Me too, and somehow they still let me in the marching band," she crinkled her nose in laughter. "The name's Maggie Stefano, but I have no Italian blood whatsoever. Go figure."_

_ "Cadie Darby. I'd stay and chat but I have to run to the office to drop off this form…"_

_ "No worries. I'll see you in class tomorrow." At my quizzical expression, "Ya know, French?"_

_ "Oh, sorry. I didn't see you at all."_

_ She chuckled at this, "No, I imagine you didn't. It's very hard to see around Rupert." _

Poor guy, a mountain of a man, with a prissy name like that. I couldn't help but think as I pulled into the drive way. Thankfully, when I went into the office, Mrs. Tyler was busy talking with someone in the back room, so all I had to do was drop off my paper in the basket and hightail it out of there.

But it looks like I won't be so lucky with avoiding Ian, I couldn't help groaning to myself. He was rocking in the chair on the porch whittling away at his thirty-thousandth chess piece.

Here goes nothing, "Hi, Dad!"

"Hey kiddo." _Creeeak, creak. Creeeak, creak_ went the chair. Time to implement Plan B: delay tactics. "So what's for dinner? I'm starved. All I had to day for lunch was fruit. You should have seen the slop they called the special. Never mind. I don't want to ruin your appetite or mine again. Do we have anything to make for spaghetti? I met this girl today who mentioned having an Italian last name but not being Italian, which made me crave garlic bread and pasta – "

"Okay, Cadie. I get the drift. Feed you first, and then ask the questions," he said as he stopped rocking to get up and head into the house.

"Thanks, Dad," I sighed in relief.

He ignored that and continued, "We have stuff for garlic bread just not spaghetti. How about homemade macaroni-and-cheese?"

"Sure, that sounds fine, if a bit unhealthy," I replied.

"Yeah, sorry about that _mon cher,_ but after, well ya know, I just haven't been feeling like cooking as elaborately as I used to. I'll make a salad to go with it."

I snorted, "No, need to apologize. You are talking to the girl who was raised by Gabby Laurel who couldn't tell you the difference between cayenne pepper and paprika to save my life, let alone hers."

"Yeah, the art of cooking would most definitely be lost on your mother," he agreed as he stuck his head in the refrigerator.

After that we didn't say much, except to ask for this or that as we made the meal together and then consumed it together. I was so emotionally exhausted, and for once one of my parents could pick up on my mood and respect it. My mother is usually the more intuitive of the two, but she likes to pester and nag until she pries everything out of me. It usually is never even worth the effort she invests in the process. Ian, however, is generally clueless and ends up doing as much damage as my sensitive mother does.

He must have recalled this aggravating habit of my mother's because he opened with, "Cadence, you know it's probably best if you tell me now and get it all out of your system before you get a phone call from your mother later tonight."

"I know." It's not that I didn't want to talk about the phone call this morning or my long day. I did. It's just that I didn't want to tell either of my parents. My mom, because she didn't understand why nor want me to come up here in the first place, and I didn't want to tell my dad because he would suggest I go back and then I would have to tell him why I came. He would not appreciate it either.

I sat there for a few minutes, took a deep breath, and then began, "So you know who little Lottie and Simon Matthews are? The kids I have been babysitting for the past four years? Well, their mother who has custody of them lost her job about six months ago due to budget cutbacks. She was an assistant to a big CEO of some emerging business franchise. She was really proud of that job… Anyways, she has had a hard time finding employment, and she's been relying on Tyrone's child custody payments to meet the bills, and that's really gulled her. From what the kids have told me, I think, she began drinking pretty heavily a few months back. I still keep in contact with them, and occasionally I went over there for free when she had a job interview, but those have been less and less…"

"Cadie…the phone call…?"

"Right, well, before I left I told them if they needed anything they could call or text me, and if it was an emergency, they should text me and my phone will go off so loud that it will be impossible for me to sleep through it," I chuckled self-deprecatingly. "They took me up on that offer this morning." I got up and started to make some tea. "When I called Lottie back, she was crying. Her mom was passed out on the floor of the kitchen where she had tripped and fallen while chasing Simon around the house with a…" I stopped and gripped the counter hard. I felt so scared for those children. This couldn't have been the first time this had happened. Why hadn't they told me sooner? Why hadn't I noticed that it was this bad? I felt Ian brush passed me as he got the tea off the stove and poured me a cup. I sat back down and began again, "With a poker from the fireplace." I blew on my tea, "So I asked them where they were and Lottie said the laundry room ready to 'book it' through the doggy door like we planned, if there ever was a burglar in the house." Ian smiled at that. "I three-way called the cops and stayed on the line until they got there. I don't know who is taking care of them now. I'd call Mom, but I know she wouldn't know either…"

While I sipped my tea, I watched Ian out of the corner of my eye. I could tell he was gearing up to suggest something that he didn't want to. He started to drum his fingers against the table. He surprised me though with the next question, "So how was the rest of your day?"

"Eh, considering." I shrugged. "I met some really nice people."

"Like the Stefano girl?" He asked as he got up to wash the dishes.

"How'd you …?"

He chuckled softly, "It's a small town. There aren't very many people with Italian last names."

"Oh. Yeah, I met her in P.E. We have a similar issue with sports-like activities."

He stopped washing and turned around to face me, "I'm glad you are making friends, but, Cadie, if you want to head back to Quebec, there will be no hard feelings here. I lived by myself quite fine after your mother left and before my brother moved in. I can do so again now that he is gone."

I set down my tea cup and faced him squarely, "Dad, I did not come up here because I thought you incapable of living a happy and contented life on your own. In fact, I'm probably being a hindrance to your now completely free bachelor lifestyle." He waved that off. "But I know that I'm less of a burden here than I am at h- back there. Mom's just gotten married to Mark, and I don't want to get in their way." I grinned up cheekily at him, "There's a reason that it's traditional for couples to get married and then have children." I paused for dramatic effect.

"Oh?" he played along.

"Yep, and I've learned it from personal experience. The traditional way saves the children from being scarred for life by the honeymoon phase." I couldn't help but laugh at his astonished face as the mental images of Gabby and Mark flashed before his eyes.

When he finally recovered, he suspiciously asked, "That's all, huh?"

"That's all," I stated with as much confidence as I could.

Either it was too much or not enough because he shook his head and said, "You probably gave a similar speech to your mother, didn't you? And how much of it did she buy?"

"Enough. I'm here aren't I?" I said impishly as I hopped off the kitchen barstool to make my way to the sink to rinse out my cup. "Do you need help with the rest of this or can I go off to bed?"

"Don't you have any homework?"

"Probably, but it's not anything I can't do after a good nap."

"Alright then, see ya later kiddo," he waved me off. "Oh, and don't forget to call your mother!"

I paused at the bottom of the stairs to shamelessly ask, "As the resident expert in marital relations, should I call her now or wait 'til later?" as I wiggled my eyebrows up and down. Not that he really was an expert considering he and my mom only lasted a month as a married couple. They had realized that they had different life and career goals and were better off just as friends. She had just moved to Québec when she discovered that she was pregnant with me.

Ian turned beet red and stuttered, "I-I don't know. You do what you think is best," and turned back to finish the dishes.

And on that exceedingly amusing note, I ran up the stairs to seek oblivion for the second time in the past three days.

* * *

**AN: **

French to English Translation:

Merde = Shit 

_ mon nom est =_ my name is

mon cher = my dear

Next chapter - Dealing with Demons


	5. Chapter 4 Dealing with Demons

Chapter 4 – Dealing with Demons

"I'm sorry, Evan," Mrs. Tyler breathily replied. "But there is no way that I can adjust your schedule if you want to graduate on time."

"I can't even take the course on-line or something?" I attempted to coax her with my most hopeful but desperate expression and pleading tone of voice, thinking at her _"Yes, Evan, I suppose I could find a way."_

"I would like to tell you, Evan, that you could; I really would, but none of the online language courses are approved by the curriculum committee…"

I tuned her high-pitched but breathy whine out at this point, frustrated once again by people's unwillingness to break or at least bend the rules for such a simple thing. It's not like I don't speak the language flawlessly anyways. While trying to resist the urge to dramatically destroy something, I heard someone enter the front office and then dash out again. I took a deep breath in an attempt to restore mental calm, but at the same time the person's scent was wafted into the room by the closing door, and it was _hers_. Memories began flooding in, and in order to not be swept away by the sheer force of their power, I cut the woman off with a curt thank you, blabbity-blah-blah, and headed to join Emmett and Rosalie, who were probably not so patiently waiting for me.

* * *

Here I sit five days later, staring mindlessly at the panoramic view laid before me from the ridge of the Laurentian Mountains. It took me three days to reach this point, far away from distractions, and now that I am here, I am reluctant to fully face my old demon with a new face. I thought that I had defeated _her_, forever burying the emotional turmoil she caused to a place of rest in the past. Carlisle was oh-so-kind to point out that this was obviously not the case.

_"So Alice has informed us that you are leaving," he stated as he leaned against the doorway of my room._

_I didn't even pause my scrutiny of the map of northern Quebec to give my characteristic eye roll at these clairvoyant announcements. "Did she?" was my non-committed reply._

_He ignored my response and strode into the room, clearing off a chair where I had placed my bag to sit down. He leaned back and crossed his arms, patiently waiting for an explanation, I suppose. "Comfortable?" was all that I said._

_"Not really, no. Esme is upset. She's grown rather fond of you." This statement gave me a twinge of regret, for the feeling was mutual. He continued, "When are you coming back?"_

_Since it looked like I was not going to be left alone to plan my escape route, I put the map down and sat on the edge of the window seat and sighed. "I don't know if I can."_

_This was met with silence as Carlisle examined my face with fatherly sympathy. He finally broke it with, "Is it the new girl?" My head whipped up at this to fix him with a puzzled expression. _

_"The last time I saw that look on a young man's face, it was Edward and he had just met Bella." He chuckled softly, but then he quickly sobered asking me with quiet concern, "Her blood…is it?"_

_"No," I shook my head. "That's not the problem exactly… but she is my personal demon…" I drifted off._

_He waited a few more minutes, and then started to get up saying, "Well you know Evan, you are always welcome here, and not just by Esme." He patted my shoulder and turned to leave._

_I would have left it at that but I needed to know, so I stopped him with "Do you believe in reincarnation?" the words rushing out of my mouth almost beyond my control._

_He stopped and sat back down, "No, but you know that already."_

_With that answer, I decided to sit back and give him his explanation, but I couldn't do it while looking into his possibly pitying eyes, so I turned to gaze out the window. "She reminds me of _Her_."_

No explanation was necessary. Carlisle knew who I was referring to. _Her _was the girl I fell in love with fifty or so years ago. The human girl who wanted a very human life. I'll never know which would hurt more, if she had rejected me for being a monster, or for rejecting me because I could not give her the life she wanted. It hurt either way. It still hurts. That is the ugly truth.

_"Is her resemblance so strong that you need to run away?" he questioned._

_I thought about my answer because his statement didn't seem to quite catch the reason for my misery. "No, _**she**_ was stronger, more collected. Her emotions did not get the better of her…and this girl has no physical resemblance to her either…It's more the fact…Oh, I don't know! I just can't." If it was physically possible for me to cry, I would have at that moment. _

_Carlisle's only response to this was, "I know that you are hurting, and that being among happy couples especially Edward and Bella, is difficult for you. However, I would hate to see you go permanently because of a ghost of a woman, whom you said you were over, still haunts you."_

It was these words and the forlorn faces of Esme and Nessie that kept me from attempting to make my way all the way to the Arctic to compare polar bear hunting with that of grizzly. Emmett bet me once that polar bears were slower due to all that extra fat. Of course, if I won that bet I would have to return to collect it, and I'm not sure I can ignore the child's tears a second time.

What galls me the most is that Carlisle is right. I am running away from something that is unsubstantial as a memory. I am a coward. I have finally found a group of people who accept me for who I am and challenge me to be so much more. I no longer have to live the lonely nomadic lifestyle that I have chafed against since my immortal life began. I have a family, and no mere echo of the past should keep me from embracing my warmth-filled future. I should not be cheated of a family, just because _she_ decided not to create one with me.

Although I knew my sudden ire did not change the fact that my French conversation partner's presence would be like lemon juice poured over an especially deep paper cut, I chose to head back anyways. After all, it would be a black mark on the proud Irish Keegan name to be labeled as the forever unrequited lover and eternal coward. So with that logic, I got up and began to make my way to the valley below, which had yet to feel the first rays of the cold but breathtaking sunrise.

* * *

**AN: **Next chapter - Families

Disclaimer - Oh, yeah, and I don't own the Twilight Saga. Well, I own it, but I'm not earning money off the proceeds, and for past chapters and future ones, I'm not Stephanie Meyers.


	6. Chapter 5 Families

Chapter 5 - Families

I must say it is a relief to have the old saying "first impressions aren't everything" proven true. I do not think I could have made it through the week, if any of the rest of it was like my first day. The week would have been a breeze, if only I knew what was going on with Lottie and Simon.

I finally learned Gadget Girl's name. It's Daniella Billings, but she prefers Dani, which suits her better than my mental appellation of G.G. Aside from pre-calculus and chemistry, she's in my French class. When my taciturn partner mysteriously did not show up all week to school, I was temporarily assigned with her and Maggie, which was fine by me. It was highly amusing to watch Dani get frustrated with Maggie's intentional and unintentional slaughtering of the language.

I first noticed that the Irish Lad was not among the "multitude" of Podunk High students when at lunch I saw _them._ They are so different, that it is hard to believe that I missed them yesterday. They are odd in that they are so similar to each other. They must be related, but yet they are so different they cannot be. They share the same extremely fair skin tone, that if put to test may be even paler than my own (if that were possible), and they shared the same unmistakably bizarre shadows underneath their eyes as if they were all cursed with chronic insomnia. Moreover, they did not seem as if they belonged in secondary school at all. Some of them did appear to possibly be of the same developmental level as the rest of us, but they all seemed to have an aura of maturity beyond the rest of us that was hard to place.

What brought them to my attention was the booming laughter of the big and burly one, who thundered his amusement so loudly that the poor little freshman walking by squeaked in fright. He appeared to be amused by something the dark haired girl had said, much to her chagrin if one judged by the slight ducking of her head. There were two other men-boys besides Young Andre seated at the table. One of them I recognized from my chemistry class. He was tall and lean like Laddie Boy but had golden blond hair and dark eyes instead of his curly black and tawny features. The other was a gorgeous bronzed-haired Adonis who seemed to be quite taken with the girl who had caused the original boisterous shout of merriment. When I observed her out of the corner of my eye, I could see why he was so absorbed by her. She was beautiful in a simple understated way. She had long dark hair and even darker eyes, and when she smiled, well, it would have made no-eyebrows Mona Lisa green with envy. Not that she was alone in her envy-producing visage. Another member of this exceptional troupe was tall, had elegantly flowing golden blond hair, and classic beautiful facial features. When I saw her, I couldn't help but grin gleefully at the thought that Disney's Princess Aurora was alive and driving a whole new generation of mirror-worshipping drama queens into pits of despair. (This fractured-fairy tale analogy was only more amusing by the fact that Sleeping Beauty now had the appearance of a troubled sleeper.) My chemistry classmate's companion, on the other hand, stole the title of Adorable Beyond Compare. She was tiny and slender and graceful. Her movements were those that a professional dancer would spend years torturing herself for. She styled her black hair to be short and spiky, much like Maggie's but with much greater success. She reminded me of a fairy or a woodland nymph, which quite in character with my whimsical mood resulted in me mentally dubbing her "Tiny Tink."

I must have been staring at them for quite some time because Adonis looked over at me with a challenging but curious expression. Normally, such scrutiny by one so beautiful would have caused me to turn away and blush, but not only was I in a peculiar mood but I was also equally curious to see his reaction. We stayed like that for I don't know how long before we were rudely interrupted by –

"Hey, Cadie, are you coming to the game tonight?" I looked at Emilee blankly for a moment trying to figure out what she was referring to but decided that it would better to just fake it.

"Um, no, uh, I promised Ian that I would do the grocery shopping tonight, and I have to catch up on all the homework that I didn't do last night. Sorry," was my amazingly articulate reply.

Before they could express their genuine or insincere regrets at my absence to the night's festivities, the bell rang, and I was off to another round of discussion on the aesthetics of the French language brought to me by G.G. and Maggie-O. (I really need to stop referring to people by anything other than their given name; it's going to get me into some serious trouble one of these days).

* * *

On Thursday, I found myself eating lunch with Ms. Regan Parker, the aspiring journalist. She somehow cornered me into agreeing to be interviewed for the school's newspaper. The only positive thing about this encounter is that my picture is not going to be taken today. My hair decided to do its impression of Medusa, refusing to stay even in a somewhat respectable up-do.

Our uncomfortable conversation began to wind down finally when she paused to review her notes and begin to organize her thoughts (I'm not sure what about since my life is pretty average, but whatev), and my mind began to wander when I noticed the Cullen Clan as I finally overheard someone refer them as. My fascination with them is easily explained in that they are the most interesting characters in this horrifically typical secondary school tableau.

Yesterday and today I noticed that they would generally sit down in the far back corner of the room in either self-exile or ostracism as the result of their unnerving qualities. They grabbed food but never really ate it, which may have explained the svelte figures of the girls, but not Young Andre's hefty build. In addition to these eccentricities, they rarely seemed to converse or appear as if they enjoyed their current situation. (Not that I blame for the last one, since I am struggling to do the very same thing). But the laughter I heard two days ago seemed to be a very rare thing.

"So you noticed the Cullen family, huh?" Regan nudged me with her elbow interrupting my musings about these delightful mysteries.

"Yeah, I did. So they _are _a family, then?" I queried.

She nodded slightly but before she could continue to her mad scribbling, I raised my eyebrows insisting on further information, "They moved here when Dr. Cullen became the hospital's most reputable surgeon about 7 months ago. The giant's name is Emmett Cullen. He's the oldest, I think. His two adopted siblings are Edward and Alice Cullen. The two blonds are twins and Mrs. Cullen's nephew and niece, Jasper and Rosalie Hale."

"How is the dark haired one related to them?" I asked hoping that she was not Alice because that would just be creepy.

"That's Bella Scott. She's the oldest sister of the two foster children, the Cullens recently acquired. The youngest is being home-schooled by Mrs. Cullen. The one that is not here, who's in our chemistry class is Evan Keegan. He's apparently a friend of Jasper's that they have kind of taken in." She shook her head at this either in disapproval or just plain astonishment; I'm not sure, but the mysteries of this unusual family must have been old news to her because she returned to her notes without further ado. If they hadn't been about me, I would have been fine with this because it left me to digest this new insight into my gem(s) of a puzzle.

I wondered if the reason for their aloof demeanor was because they truly thought they were better than everyone else? Or were they so wounded from their previously broken home lives and constant moving around that they did not want to invest the energy into making friends? Was the reason for their "unnerving-ness" because everyone subconsciously suspected they were not really a warm and loving family but a psychopathic cult? Or was it just their family's defense mechanism? I snorted at my outrageous theories. I apparently have read one too many Poe stories and/or Mark's psycho-babble articles, which are nowhere near as good as the psychoanalytic or existential classics.

I was saved from another awkward stare off with Edward (?) Cullen when Maggie and Dani came by to collect me for class. Maggie was hoping to pick my brain on the way there for a major cram session, since she heard there was a pop quiz on irregular verb conjugations.

* * *

The beginning of the weekend was the most welcome event of my life. Not only did I finally get my books delivered whole and undamaged, but I also got a call from Tyrone Matthews, Lottie's and Simon's father.

He reported that he had temporary custody of the kids' until the courts made a decision on the charges the state was making against Vanessa, their mother, on whether they were true or not. He seemed rather hopeful that they would decide in their favor, considering that she was passed out drunk on the floor with the cooling poker in her hand, no food or drink was in the house (aside from her booze), and the kids had various bruises and cuts. It was very hard not to break down when I heard this, but I didn't think it would be very helpful to Tyrone who seemed to be doing all he could to not do so himself. He also mentioned finally being at a position in his engineering career where he would not be traveling so much, which was why he did not share custody with them in the first place. I would have gotten to talk to them, but he wearily explained that he just got them to settle down and take a nap after spending the day at a mutual friend's birthday party. He was going to let them tell me all about it when they called on Sunday. However, due to the mini-blizzard that was meeting all its expectations from the predictions that had been made for it earlier this week, the phones were down so I missed my chance for hearing their adorable voices.

I spent the rest of the weekend finishing unpacking, organizing, and settling into a routine with Ian in hopes of distracting myself from guilty thoughts of not being there for my kids and in the hopes of forming roots into my self-chosen exile. It was a successful endeavor since although Ian is a great cook, he sucks at keeping house.

_"Achoo! Achoo! Ian when was the last time you dusted in here?" I asked as I added another log to the fire in the living room._

_It was very hard to keep an irritated and stern expression on my face, when he sheepishly ducked his face and blushed, "Umm…since maybe the last time the maid was here?"_

_"We have a maid?" I asked in bewilderment._

_"No, I had a maid after Billy –ya know, he used to do the house work, but when you decided to come. I cancelled her services to save money…" he mumbled desperately, hoping I would understand._

_And I did but…"Oh, so you hear that I'm coming to live with you and you think: Free maid service?!" I cried in mock outrage. I couldn't help it. His chain was so easy to yank._

_He exclaimed in protest, "No! No! That's not it at all. She was just really annoying, moving things around, and giving her opinion on every little thing I did. I mean I wanted a housekeeper, not a wife!" _

_Oh poor Ian, continually sought after by the voracious husband-hunters. He must have caught my smirk because he changed his line of reasoning quite drastically. "And besides, young lady, you are getting free room and board. A little help around the house couldn't be too much to ask; now could it?" He charged, quite triumphantly, obviously content that he salvaged his dignity. _

_I couldn't hold it in any longer; I giggled hysterically falling out of my chair, but before he could become even more outraged, I stated, "Yes, I- Dad, of course, I can contribute to household maintenance. I planned to anyways."_

_When he nodded with great contentment at winning our first father-daughter "argument," I got up and sat down next to him, kissing him on the cheek before doing so. He appeared quite baffled at what in his mind must have been an unwarranted sign of affection, so I explained, "Have I ever said thank you for letting me come here?" When it looked like he was going to brush off my gratitude, I briskly stated, "Well, consider it said," and sat back to continue reading my book._

_But before I could become too engrossed by the Gothic horrors unleashed on unsuspecting London debutantes, I added nostalgically, "Uncle Billy did like to clean and do laundry, didn't he?" _

_"Yeah, he did, humming to himself as he puttered around in an apron, protected by gloves, and armed with his trusty feather duster," he chuckled softly before returning to his business ledgers._

_I gazed at him wondering, for not the last time, who really took care of whom in that unique but extraordinarily loving sibling relationship._

* * *

As I gazed out my bedroom window, waiting for the glorious inauguration of what looked to be trying day, I recalled my own recent version of the prodigal son's return.

_I was understandably disturbed by the eerie silence of the house and my inexplicable ease at slipping in unnoticed, when that notion was corrected by Esme's soft voice floating down to me from the loft above. "Evan, can I talk to you for a moment?"_

_"Yeah, sure. Do you want me up there or are you coming down here?" I whispered back, unsure of why I was doing so._

_She chuckled, "I'm coming down. No need to whisper. Nessie has gone with everyone for the evening to hunt."_

_After we got settled on the couches, I asked her, "What do you need to talk about?"_

_She sighed, "Are you staying? Because I think you should. Carlisle explained to me that you left because of _that_ girl," she nearly spat the words in as close as a despising tone as Esme could ever get, "but if she couldn't see what you were worth then I don't see that she was ever good enough for you in the first place. And we need you. After the whole thing with the Volturi, lines of loyalty were drawn, and you have brought us closer together, connected us again." She finished in a rush._

_I was touched by her sentiment and taken aback at her view of my affect on their family. I wanted her to know as well how much she meant to me, but it had been so long since I voiced such sentiments that I was out of practice. "I don't know about that last part, but I, uh, I mean…you all are umm…" I stopped, took a deep breath, and ran my hands through my hair in frustration. "What I'm trying to say is that I have grown rather fond of you all, and plan to be sticking around a wee bit more. I kin what you are saying aboot _her_ and I'm tryin' not to let the ghost of Christmas past interfere with what I have found here with you all. It's just that the emotions hit me sudden-like and I couldna deal with it, ye kin?" My accent kept on getting thicker and thicker the more emotional I became._

_Esme realized this and wrapped her arms around me pulling my head down to lay on her shoulder, saying gently, "I kin," while rocking me back and forth. _

That sweet interlude was later followed by her telling me all that I had missed, which reminded me so much of my natural human mother that I couldn't help wishing that she would break out into Gaelic as she prattled on like a contented grandma.

The peace and the harmony did not last long as the others soon returned from their expedition with uncanny timing, which can only be attributed to Alice's usual Machiavellian finesse. I was plagued by overzealous slaps to the back (Emmett), lifted eyebrows (Jasper and Carlisle), smirks (Edward and Rosalie), sympathetic glances (Bella), and unending questions about my trip and future plans (Alice and Renesmee). To Machiavelli's Mini-me, I replied with an incredulous expression and snort to be interpreted "As if you didn't know," and for the Adorable Miracle, I picked her up and began dancing wildly in imitation of an intoxicated crow that I had seen, judging by its bizarre flight pattern. Nessie was greatly amused when I told her that I called it "Edward the II" after one of our literary favorites.

I should probably stop my reminiscing and start rehearsing the symptoms of my "old family's friend's" illness, in case anyone is curious enough and courageous enough to ask. The mortals' subconscious fear of us can either be highly useful in such cases as these or highly amusing. The problem with living in a small town is that the unsuspecting fools lose some of their healthy self-preserving timidity as a result of living in a low crime area. Well, I guess, that's where my special brand of persuasiveness comes in. With this thought, I picked up my bag and headed downstairs to give Nessie her habitual goodbye buss to the forehead before I started the hopefully new chapter in my extraordinarily long life.

* * *

**AN:** Next chapter - Misunderstandings and Clarifications


	7. Ch6 Misunderstandings & Clarifications

Chapter 6 – Misunderstandings and Clarifications

Jasper pointed her out to me the second she walked in the door accompanied by a short freckled guy chattering away at her about something that made him greatly animated, like a squirrel that has just found a Planter's warehouse ripe for the pickings. I was unsure if the little smile that she had playing at the corner of her lips was out of equal excitement for the topic or suppressed amusement at his demeanor.

I spent the whole hour trying to get her to do something as simple as scratching her right elbow but was unsuccessful. It's not that I was met with a mental wall; no, like I said before, I had encountered those before, and that would have not made her exceptionally unique. No, it was the fact that I couldn't find anything to mentally lean against. I can sense everyone's mental barriers; poking and prodding, searching for their weak spots to take advantage of if necessary is what I do best. But this girl, however, was a black hole that was sucking me in to drown in frustrated curiosity.

I don't know why I felt the need to focus on this one aspect of her puzzling existence. Maybe it was because I am like a dog gnawing on an old bone, unable to let it go until its presence has ceased to irritate. Most likely, however, it was because this riddle was entirely devoid of emotional entanglements. The other mystery that I seemed to be refusing to ponder is that of why she affects me so. Yes, that one is best left untouched. Unfortunately, it was impossible not to become slightly endeared to her as I watched her slowly nod off to the droning voice of Mr. Hoffman.

"Ms. Darby! Could you so kindly tell us what is the atomic number of the element molybdenum?" Mr. Hoffman called out, sounding perturbed and disgusted at her apparent lack of ability to pay attention to the class or even pretend to be as that was what most of the students did anyways. I held my breath and waited for her response, feeling unusually uncomfortable for this poor girl.

She jerked awake, saw that the teacher and everyone was looking at her expectantly, and blurted out, "42!"

"That is correct." I exhaled in relief, when he grumbled, appearing quite put out that he did not get to lecture her for her inattentiveness, but then had to stifle a snort because she appeared quite shocked that he had said so. Somebody must be familiar with the works of Douglas Adams. This last thought was noted almost like a proud papa causing me to shake my head in self-derision.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Jasper looking at me concernedly, which can only mean that my reactions to this girl are as baffling to him as they are to me. _Great_.

* * *

I nearly tripped as I walked through the door of French class, when I noted that my week-long absent conversation partner was back again. I shouldn't have been surprised. I mean, he must have been in my chemistry class and his return must have been the talk of at least the junior year of the student body, but I had been so out of it this morning. My mom called last night once the phone lines were restored, and we didn't get off the phone until really late. That is to say she didn't get done describing the latest romantic gesture of Mark's or her latest commissioned project that was going to be so delightfully challenging and she didn't get done trying to squeeze every last detail of my first week of school out of me. The first two I didn't mind so much because I could tell she was really happy, but the last was exhausting. Anyways, he hadn't been with his family at lunch so my surprise is somewhat justified.

I nodded at him as I sat down trying not to feel extremely nervous, but his stiff mien did not quite have the aura of being overly inviting, yet again. I got out notes and pen deciding to resist the urge to continue with my sketches, recalling the disaster that had been the last time he had been there.

Maggie and Dani came in not too long after that and waved at me. When they saw that he was there, they made disappointed but yet not surprised faces.

It was rather amusing to watch Ms. Girard open the class by welcoming the wayward student with "Well, class I would like to start off by wishing Monsieur Keegan back after his long illness…" Her smile slowly fell as his blank look at her made her extremely nervous. In fact the whole class seemed to shift slightly away from him in what appeared to be an unconscious manner. My recent theory of the Cullens being a psychopathic cult skittered across the edge of my mind before being replaced with the realization that it had never occurred to me that he might have been sick this whole time. Chalk up another oddity to these strange beings: although they appear to be sickly pale, they give off the impression of being invulnerable to inconveniences such as germs. Peculiar.

The slamming of Bubba's book and the beginnings of movement to shift his chair caused me to realize that it was time to practice in pairs once again. (So much for taking notes like a responsible student.) I turned to face Laddie Boy, when he launched into one of the scripted conversations assigned for today's lesson. I automatically responded only stumbling in shock over the speed of the interchange.

When we were finished (way before the others, I might add), I asked him, "So I noticed your French accent has improved since last week," in an attempt to avoid any awkward silences as we waited for the others to finish.

My conversational gambit failed miserably, when all he did was shrug and say, "I had a lot on my mind last week."

"Oh," was all that I could say in response. It was times like these that I truly lamented the fact that half a person's personality was influenced by genetics. Too much of Ian was involved in my interpersonal skills. I gave up then and began doodling once again. This time it was a series of cartoon-like bats. I would have attempted at sketching a real one, but it had been too long since I had seen one to satisfy the demands of my inner perfectionist.

Ms. Girard finally called the class to order just before the bell rang to announce that there would be a vocabulary quiz some time this week and we should be studying. I groaned along with the others, but for the reason that my next class involved a timed mile run. I was still debating whether I should risk the consequences for doing so, even though I was unsure of whether or not I had acclimated to the altitude yet, just for the sake of avoiding doing it by myself another day. Maybe I should talk Maggie into playing sick so that we could do it together another time? I didn't want to. I abhorred unnecessary deceit. Then again this plotting may be pointless because I might be acclimated just fine. I wouldn't know until I tried. Right?

* * *

"So, are you going to ask me?" Edward asked me with his usual deadly serious tone of voice after he put the weights back on the rack.

"Ask you what?" I responded, futilely playing dumb. After all, the guy could read minds.

I was reaching down to lift 50 pound barbell, when he impatiently stated, "About the new girl – "

I knew it was coming but I still lost my grip on the weight causing it to fall on my foot with a loud Bang! When a few of our classmates looked over to see the reason for the noise, I waved them off indicating that it had missed my foot, when in fact, it had not. Luckily for me, the barbell didn't seem to have received any damage. Although I was sorely tempted to change that by smashing it against the two imbeciles next to me, who were giving each other knowing glances. I inwardly groaned, silently acknowledging the fact there was a bet involved; I restrained myself, and as I began "working" my biceps, I asked him, "Have you been able to hear her at all?"

"Sort of, I can't hear the exact words, but I get the connotation of her 'mental murmur' as it were," he replied. "She's slowly adjusting to life here in a small town, is occasionally anxious about something, but the thing that concerns me the most is that she seems to be exceedingly curious about us."

I scoffed, "Who isn't?"

Jasper finally put his two-cents in, "It is more than the others. She seems to get deep satisfaction from frequently making us her objects of idle curiosity. At one point she had a staring competition with Edward." I found this hard to believe; she just didn't seem to have enough gumption for that.

Before I could formulate a response to this, I was distracted by the loud commotion coming from the adjoining gym. I looked to Edward for an explanation, when a little pimply faced underclassman came running into the room headed straight for the coaches' office babbling about the first aid kit.

Everyone in the room stopped what they were doing now and began to crowd around the door like vultures to a carcass. When the kid squirmed his way back out again, the group followed suit. Apparently the commotion in the gym was too confusing, because Edward did not seem to be able to offer us any insight as to what the problem was.

So as not to draw attention to ourselves, we headed out to join our class. Standing in the back of the crowd, I was unable to see what was going on, but my keen ears provided that information just as well.

"I'm alright. I'm alright!" she insisted breathily.

"Stand back you lot and give the girl some breathing room!" the P.E. coach hollered. Then to the girl he gently queried, "You haven't adjusted to the altitude yet, have you?" Pause. "Silly girl, what were you thinking?" A mumbled "I'm sorry" followed. "No, don't apologize. I should have made sure before I asked so much of you," he sighed. "Can you stand?" Pause. "Well, go sit in my office and we'll call your father – " She made a noise of protest. "He should be told, Ms. Darby. He may want to take you to the hospital." She inserted an even louder noise of objection. "And anyways you can't drive home so he'll have to come pick you up. Ms. Stefano, please, assist your classmate to my office." He then turned to everyone else, exclaiming, "Alright everyone continue with what you were doing! I'll be right back." And with that he parted the crowd and walked with the two girls back to his office.

We made our way back to the weight room behind them. Our previous conversation was never resumed, mostly because I was intent on eavesdropping on those in the office.

* * *

I stared after Coach Jump-to-Worst-Conclusion, who had just left, leaving me to pick up the mess that he had created with his phone exchange with Ian. How the heck was I going to straighten this out?

"Cadie?! Are you there?" Ian was frantically calling, probably worried that I had passed out "again."

"Yeah, I'm here, Dad. Look, it's not as bad as it sounds. Really."

"How is altitude poisoning, not bad?!" he interjected.

I took a deep breath, reaching down to find some hidden reserves of patience, "Don't overreact, Dad. Okay? Can you listen to my side of the story first before you have a heart attack?" I took his silence as his assent and continued, "So, I am not suffering from altitude poisoning. I didn't even faint. Truly."

"Then, why did Coach Wyatt say you did?" he interrupted.

I refrained from giving a snotty answer along the lines of "because maybe he's a second-rate gym teacher and wrestling coach and not a doctor?" Instead I said, "Um, well, your daughter should have realized that when someone says they have 'two left feet' they really do. My running partner tripped me up, and I fell. I skinned my knees and hands. That's all, but the ground was so comfortable that I didn't get up right away. Everyone panicked because Maggie made such a riot of a noise when we fell. Coach Wyatt made some assumptions, and then when I said that I wasn't sure if I had acclimated to the altitude yet, he ran with it full speed ahead." I finished this with an exasperated but apologetic sigh.

"Oh, Cadie," Ian groaned.

"I know, I know. Anyways, it doesn't look like he's gonna let me drive home at all. Do you think you can come get me anytime soon?"

"Er – not really. I'm in the Catholic District across town," he replied. I couldn't help but give an eye roll at this. The Catholic District is the town committee's designation of the block around the quaint but picturesque little cathedral that they give tours through during Autumn Festival Week. The "district" is not big enough to support even a small catholic school. Those who want to send their children to one have to do so by sending them to the next town over. "It will be awhile before I can pick you up even if I left now. The road is blocked by that maple tree that fell during the storm a couple of weeks ago, and the detour – "

"That's okay, Dad. I'm sure I can find a ride home from someone here," completely understanding his frustration with the town's road maintenance. Whoever plans the detours, which they frequently have to do because of situations like these, must be someone who designed rat mazes for crazy psych experiments in a former life.

He didn't seem satisfied with that answer but grudgingly replied with, "Alright, Cadie, if you're sure…"

"I'm sure, Dad, but if something doesn't work out I'll call you. Okay?" I pleaded.

"Alright, love you, kiddo," he said, using his pet name that used to drive me insane when I was younger.

"Love you, too, _Pops_," finishing with my pet name for him that equally annoyed him.

When I hung up, both the coach and Max walked in. "Can he come and pick you up or does he want us to take you to the hospital to be checked out?" The coached anxiously inquired.

It took all my self-control not to giggle at the absurdity of it all and simply replied, "Um, no. No hospital, and no, he can't pick me up. But he does insist that I get a ride from someone else," I fibbed, so that he wouldn't think that my dad didn't care about my well-being or that I had lied to get my way.

"I can take her, Coach," Max eagerly volunteered. A snort escaped from me at this because his resemblance to an overgrown puppy was just too uncanny.

They looked at me in concern before resuming their strategic planning of what I mentally dubbed the Wyatt-Cortland Play: Bring Her on Home. This seemed to take an extraordinarily long time, so I began to form my own strategies on how to seek revenge against Maggie-O for abandoning me to Po-dunk High's overzealous knights of chivalry.

It was a good thing that I did so, because I needed all of my frustrated energy focused on something other than the poor pup, who was trying so hard to impress me with his new sound system and leather interiors in his relatively new four-door truck. I don't despise the guy. I really don't. He's very nice. He even takes the time to include Jeffrey and Dani into our pre-pre-calculus conversations. It's just that the guy has no ability to pick up on social cues. He persists in his fascination with me, even though I clearly don't return the favor, and he totally misses out on the fact that Emilee likes him. Although I can't really blame him for that one, she is the type of girl who would normally go after better looking and more senior guys than him, and she doesn't seem to be being as blatantly obvious about it as she usually is, at least according to what I overheard Tiffany and Genevieve saying in history the other day.

With relief, I got out of the truck to head back into the house after politely as possible refusing his repeated offer of assistance. Max called after me saying, "Coach is bringing your, uh, car later tonight after wrestling practice."

I nodded in understanding and turned back towards the house, but then had a moment of genius so I stopped and walked back to the car, "Hey, can you tell Coach Wyatt to drop my key through the letter slot in the door? I, er, might be resting and it would just be really exhausting to have to get up and answer the door. Ya know?" I said this with as much weak, poor me, feminine frailty as possible without him thinking I would faint right there. It seemed to work because he said with concerned understanding, "Sure thing."

I went into the house and waited for him to drive off and then grabbed my mp3 player and headed out to Billy's shed, which we all fondly called the "Studio." I felt the serious need to rock out to the CD Eddie had given me of this new band that combined opera and rock, and get my hands dirty with Billy's old clay mix. Maybe I would attempt to re-do Billy's representation of Whisper, of course, adding my own perspective of her twisted qualities.

* * *

I took my time packing my stuff up and "stretching," waiting to ensure she got a ride home since it didn't seem that any of her friends were sticking around to offer their assistance.

"I can take her, Coach," the boy who had entered the office with Coach Wyatt said. His over eagerness shocked me. Maybe I should follow them, just to make sure this hormonal lad doesn't slobber all over her in his newly acquired wannabe macho-man contraption. I snorted in self-derision at my beyond belief over-protectionism and headed for the door, hoping Emmett wouldn't comment on my tardiness.

He didn't, but Rosalie did. The whole way home, she expressed her disapproval. It was irritating as hell. Sniff. Sniff. Huff. Drumming of the fingernails, glaring at me as she looked in the rearview mirror. Huff. Sniff. Grinding of the teeth. Repeat. This process was only interrupted by Emmett's turning up the volume on the stereo.

Reprieve from family disapproval was not to be had when we arrived home either. Edward waved to Emmett and Rosalie as they passed him into the house but gestured for me to stay. I leaned against the car settling back from what I suspected would be an unpleasant conversation.

Edward grabbed a rag nearby and began to wax the car down, working his way around to the other side. I sighed and joined him. I tried not to lose my patience with him because I could tell he was struggling to find the right words for what he had to say, but eventually I just prodded him with, "Why don't you just say what's on your mind, Edward? Besides, if I feel the need to take a swing at you, you'll know its coming anyways."

I chuckled at this allusion to his gift, but all he did was fix me with a grave look and asked, "Are you sure you know what you are getting yourself into?"

Okay, this is not where I thought this conversation was going.

He continued in response to my perplexed expression, "Trying to keep one of these mortals safe takes a lot of emotional investment. Trust me, I know." He got this sickeningly sweet expression on his face as he most likely recalled one of his many instances of saving his damsel-in-distress. It changed, however, to a more dubious looking one when he stated, "But I don't think she's worth it."

In disbelief, I scoffed, "Doth mine ears deceive me? Or did the noble Edward, just utter the words that a human life was not worth saving? Couldn't be! That would be heresy!"

Annoyed, he replied, "Cut the crap, Evan. I meant that I didn't think she's worth your emotional investment." I was oddly touched by his concern on my behalf, but equally curious as to what he meant by that, so all I said was, "Pray tell?" in my best aristocratic English accent.

He gave a little smile at that and said, "She just seems to be like this princess who is continually amused by the doing of the commoners. And like Jasper said, she seems to find us particularly fascinating," he said with more than a hint of annoyance.

For some reason my hackles rose up at this observation, but I teasingly continued with his analogy, "Like we're her court jesters?"

He truly didn't appreciate my attempt to introduce a little levity. "Sometimes, I don't know why I bother, but you know you should consider my advice for two reasons."

"Oh?" This was it. This is where the fit hit the shan and got nasty.

He paused evaluating my receptivity and for good reason considering what he said next, "You don't really have a good track record when it comes to judging the female species, and we can't afford you falling in love and being turned down again. The Volturi have made it very clear that there should be no humans alive who know our secret."

I loved Renesmee and Esme too much to kill their father and son, so I uttered some choice expletives and gritted out, "And?"

"And if she keeps on watching us with the perceptivity that she has, she might see something that she shouldn't."

"Which would mean what?" gruesome images of him and Jasper hovering over the remains of her fragile and broken body as the result of their need to protect the family flashed through my mind.

"Just that, you might want to consider reducing your exposure to her," he answered not denying exactly that it would not end that way. He put his hand on my shoulder, squeezed it in a gesture of encouragement, probably hoping that I would have more success in this endeavor then he had had, and left me to my thoughts.

I decided to finish waxing Rosalie's car. Mostly just to give myself something to do while I did exactly that.

I should give Edward and Jasper more credit. They would give her a painless and dignified death, most likely making it look like an accident so that the family's safety could be guaranteed. And I should not begrudge him his cruel words. After all, he is a father now. The safety of his wife and child should become his first priority. Calling it as he sees it should not be resented.

But it hurts like hell.

* * *

**AN:** Okay, before you crucify me, I know Edward and Jasper wouldn't do that, but Evan has spent most of his existence with a far rougher crowd who wouldn't think twice about killing Cadie to keep their secret.

So, the next chapter - Allusions, in which Cadie and Evan begin to interact more.


	8. Chapter 7 Allusions

Chapter 7 – Allusions 

I decided to follow Edward's advice over the next few weeks and keep my emotional distance. However, I was going to observe her very carefully. I wanted to know what it was about her that reminded me of _Her_, so that I could find away to exorcise this currently unexplainable drive to protect her and get on with my life.

After a few days of observation, I agreed with Edward's assessment so far as that she seemed to be struggling in adjusting to small town life and to be periodically sinking into episodes of fretfulness. You could tell the latter because she would lose track of the conversation around her, begin fiddling with whatever was in her hand, and bite the inside of her lip.

If I wanted to know more, however, I was going to have to actually converse with her more than I had been in French class. Maybe we'd get the chance to today. I hoped so, because I'm not sure I was patient enough to wait until next week.

It appeared as if my Irish luck still held its charm because Ms. Girard had us break into pairs. I was going to have to make the most of this opportunity, however, because we were supposed to talk of the weather, of all things.

I began with the script but tweaked it a little bit, "So, how do you feel about the weather today?"

She was a little taken aback by the change but she recovered quickly enough and followed my lead, shrugging while saying, "It's not so bad. In fact, I thought there would be more storms than there has been." Her eyes got all big at this, and she quickly rapped her knuckles on the desk.

I chuckled under my breath at this superstitious display, but replied a little condescendingly, "Oh, that's because of where we're located on the mountain range. We're kind of sheltered from the worst of them."

She nodded, "Yeah, that's what I've heard."

She began to fiddle with the pen that was in her hand, so I fished around for another topic and came up with, "I guess living in a small town has taken some time to adjust to? It's nothing at all like living in the big city."

"No, it's not too bad." She shrugged again, but then chuckled a little bemusedly, "but it still takes me by surprise when the middle aged woman standing next to me in the produce aisle of the corner market asks me how my father's dentist appointment went."

She then looked at me quizzically, "How has it been for you and your family? I heard that you were from …Toronto." The last part was more of a question than a statement, but she seemed triumphant at turning the conversation's focus onto me.

I contrarily decided to ignore this conversational gambit and reached down to pick up the book that had been sticking out of her bag. I was rather taken aback at what I saw, so I looked at her appraisingly, realizing that this must have been her inspiration for the bats in her notebook that had so disturbed me the other day.

"_Dracula_, huh?" was all I said though.

"It seemed to compliment my mood, especially last weekend with the storm and all," she replied with a slight self-deprecating chuckle, but then her expression changed to what I could only identify as almost _impish_, "And it seemed kind of fitting with the upcoming blood drive."

I smirked at the irony that she considered the technicians as bloodsuckers, but only prodded her with "Oh, are you going to be donating?" Somehow she didn't seem the type who would.

"No," she shook her head with a little grimace. Ha, I was right.

"Afraid of needles?" I teased.

She huffed annoyed, "No, I don't mind them at all. I don't mind giving blood. In fact, I'm a proud blood donor." She finished with her nose slightly lifted in the air as she fixed me with a glare, eyes flashing.

"So then, why…?" I asked perplexed, but even more endeared by her cute little outraged expression.

She hung her head sheepishly, causing her hair to slide in front of her face. "Well, er, I just don't like being in a room that I know is full of _other_ people's blood." She shuddered, "and I just know Emilee is going to try to guilt trip me into helping her with it, so I'm ditching that day." She lifted her head at that, tucking her hair behind her ear, and imploring me with her big luminous eyes to not judge her when she noticed my shocked expression.

The thought of her and all that blood was just too much for me so I began trying to disengage, and only dismissively said, "Your secret is safe with me." She sagged in relief and began to fiddle with her pen again, looking around the classroom.

However, she was not going to have any of my introverted behavior today it seemed because she then asked me, "So, what were you sick with last week?"

Forgetting that Ms. Girard had gotten the story wrong, I responded without thinking, "Oh, I wasn't. I went to visit an old family friend who was sick."

She made a little sound of repressed amusement and asked rather incredulously, "You went Bunberrying?"

I was so shocked that she surprised out of me, "How did you know?"

She shrugged again and said in a small bemused voice, "I don't know. I just do."

Ms. Girard called the class to order after that, but all I could think was that Edward was once again right. She was extremely observant.

* * *

I looked at the clock. It read 5:45. Doing the mental math, I realized that I had an hour and fifteen minutes to kill before the lasagna was done, leaving me to debate between setting up my laptop and printer and stuff that I knew was sitting in the box in the living room or begin my long overdue deep cleaning project of Ian's office.

I should probably do the latter since although that will take the longest, it has the least amount of promised frustration. Technology and I generally do not get along. However, if I open the box and set the items out, maybe Ian will see them and volunteer to do it for me…

This completely ridiculous and utterly conniving plan was underway until I saw what was in the box, and it was definitely _not_ my old laptop and printer, which I had sent in to get repaired.

There was a note from my mom saying, "Surprise! After talking with the techies about trying to update your computer so that it ran faster and all that jazz, Mark decided that it would just be more cost-effective if he went and got you a new computer. Don't worry. He had all of your pictures and things added to your new computer. Enjoy it sweetie!"

Gabby is such a sucker. "Cost-effective," my monkey's uncle. Mark was being his smooth self and trying to impress my mother with his sophisticated knowledge of the technological world. He had bought me a Mac. My eyes began to water as I became overwhelmed at the man's over-the-top generosity.

I got up and hurriedly began setting the table and making side dishes, even though I did not need to do that for another half hour at least. I just desperately needed a distraction, so searching for something else to dwell upon I let my mind return again to the bizarre conversation I had with Irish Boy, earlier today. Bizarre, in that, we actually had one, and bizarre because he and it were so random.

"_So, how do you feel about the weather today?" I was about to answer with the expected response about it being miserable due to the abominable cold, but then decided to just go with the flow, since he didn't seem to be following the script either. _

_"It's not so bad. In fact, I thought there would be more storms than there has been." I quickly rapped my knuckles on the desk trying to avoid jinxing next week's predicted sunny skies. I missed the sun._

_He seemed to be slightly amused at my actions. This didn't irritate me all that much because I usually laugh at my one superstitious habit as well. No, what irritated me was the condescending statement that next came out of his mouth, "Oh, that's because of where we're located on the mountain range. We're kind of sheltered from the worst of them."_

_All I could do was nod. I didn't want to offend him and thus send him back into his silent and reclusive mode. It's no fun sitting there being pitied by Maggie and Dani and who knew who else in the room, so all I said was "Yeah, that's what I've heard."_

_It began to look as if my self-constraint was futile, so as the silence began to drag on I picked up my pen, while I darkly mused that talking about the weather in a place that is always snowing or at least overcast was the most pointless thing I'd ever heard. This train of thought was derailed with his second attempt: "I guess living in a small town has taken some time to adjust to? It's nothing at all like living in the big city."_

_Not the most stimulating conversation starter, since just about everyone in town had asked me the same thing, but beggars can't be choosers, so I shrugged and replied, "No, it's not too bad." I then recalled the latest instance of annoying small town life. While buying groceries, a middle aged woman, who by the scent of her clothes worked at the salon shop across the street, asked me about my father's dentist appointment, the one that not even I had known about. Ian's horrified face when I told him of this, still caused me no end of amusement. _

_I related some of this to my strangely curious partner, but then I also recalled that he and at least Jasper were from a major city as well, so he should know some of what I'm experiencing. I asked him about it, grateful that I now had a personal question to ask him. _

_When he avoided answering my question by blatantly snatching my book out of my bag, it became apparent to me why he had been so reluctant to converse with me in the first place. No personal questions were to be allowed. _

_"_Dracula_, huh?" he eyed me with an unidentifiable expression. It was part-horror, part-smirk, and part-understanding, as if he had solved some riddle that had been plaguing him. _

_When I looked at the book, however, it reminded me of why I had started reading it in the first place. When I had been searching among my dearly beloved classics, trying to find something to read by the fireplace while the storm raged outside and Ian did his paperwork, I saw It. _Dracula_, my friend Ashley's favorite. It was perfect in all its dark, depressing, and suspense-filled glory…I hinted at this, but tried to lighten the mood with some self-directed laughter. This plan didn't quite work until I recalled Emilee's blood drive that she had been planning at lunch, effectively killing my appetite._

_He seemed to find amusement at my insinuation if one judged by the stupid smirk on his ridiculously attractive face, but all he said was "Oh, are you going to be donating at all?" _

_I shook my head trying to suppress the bile that had risen up at just the thought of all those bags and bags of blood._

_He thankfully offered me a distraction, teasing me with an absurd suggestion about having a needle phobia. As if. _

_His reaction to my heated declaration was possibly even more annoying. He had this look of confusion in his eyes that were oddly dark today, but the corners of his mouth were twitching in apparent enjoyment at my overly passionate defense. _

_This realization and the slight guilty feeling at not being supportive of my new friend's project caused me to duck my head when I replied to his question of why. When I removed the offensive strands of hair that refused to stay out of my face all day, I noticed that he seemed inordinately discomforted at my answer and was pulling back into his solitary shell._

_Although I was relieved at his reassurance, I was also thoroughly ticked off at his regression. The only thing that I could think of to change that was to break his rule and ask him a personal question. I fiddled with my pen trying to decide among the many, when I recalled the impression I had earlier this week about the reason behind his mysterious absence. So I straight up and asked him what his symptoms were, hoping to surprise the real reason out of him._

_It worked amazingly well, and I couldn't quite contain my glee at being right when he denied actually being sick at all. It only made things worse that instead of telling the whole truth, he gave this obviously rehearsed story. Although he said it straight to my face looking unwaveringly into my eyes, I could so tell he was lying. He was too intense about it, and at the same time he looked as if he guiltily regretted not just going with Ms. Girard's version. _

_What was even better was that my calling him out on his Algy-like excuse got him to accidentally confess to the deed._

_When he asked me, however, how I knew that. I couldn't tell him. I have a tendency to notice things that other people wouldn't. Mark liked to call it my B.S. radar, and he would know since the guy is full of it, up to his very eyeballs. _

This thought brought me full circle to my original problem – what to do with Mark's extreme generosity. Ian fortunately entered at this moment exclaiming his appreciation of the smell that was permeating throughout the kitchen.

When we sat down to dinner, he asked me how my day was. I ambiguously replied, "I have this feeling that I have spent all evening jumping from one rabbit hole into the next."

He looked at me as if I had pulled him into one along with me, so all I said was, "Never mind. What you should be concerned about is the fact that this weekend, I'm going to go through your office and organize it, giving it the cleaning it deserves." His expression of absolute terror was enough to restore some peace of mind, allowing me to contentedly eat my delightful sausage-free lasagna.

* * *

**AN: **Comments? Questions? Critiques?


	9. Chapter 8 Revelations

Chapter 8 - Revelations

The nice thing about hunting with Jasper is that he can sense your mood and respect it. The irritating thing is that where he goes, Alice is usually with him. This time, however, he must have been able to communicate to her not to bother me so much with her pointed questions and vague hints, because I was left alone to my thoughts without having to be tempted by the urge to use my powers of persuasion on her pretty little self.

I need this time to myself, to think my thoughts uninterrupted and un-overheard. I need to sift through all the data that I have collected concerning Ms. Darby from the past two weeks. So after disposing a couple of the elk herd's steers, I lay out on a boulder enjoying what was left of the fainting sun's rays.

I know she likes sunlight. She intimated during one of our conversations that she envied our camping trips, wishing she could have spent the rare sunlit days of last week out of doors, rather than being cooped up in classrooms, especially with Mr. Hoffman.

_"So I noticed that you went Bunberrying again this week," she teasingly accused as she shifted her chair to face me._

_Playing along, I gestured to myself with an air of mock offense and disbelief, "Me? No!"_

_"Uh-huh," she lifted her eyebrows and smirked, "Don't try your little innocent act on me, mister. I've known four year-olds who can do it better than you."_

_"I'll admit that I played hooky," I grinned impishly, "but I'll have you know that my family is known for going on extended camping trips on the rare day the sun decides to grace us with its presence."_

_"And the school has no problem with this?" she asked somewhat miffed._

_Now it was my turn to smirk, "The school has graciously looked the other way, and their doing so has nothing to do with a sizable donation of up-to-date computers." I couldn't help but laugh at her now; her mouth was hanging wide open in astonishment over this unashamed display of wealth and favoritism. _

_However, she ignored the bait I had cast her and returned to questioning my recent whereabouts. "So where does your family go on these occasions of frivolity?" her tone indicating curiosity more than disapproval. _

_"Here and there. We like to try new places every time," I waved rather indifferently, hoping that she wouldn't question any further. I was strangely reluctant to tell her anymore lies. She looked away and sighed with longing, "Lucky you." After gazing out the window with irritation, she turned back and said, "It nearly killed me in chemistry, yesterday, writing my hand off, knowing that there was a magical world filled with blue sky and light and I was destined to waste it on the principles of conservation." _

_"I thought you were going to ditch?" I asked, doing my best to push the images of why to the back of my mind. _

_"I did on Tuesday," she smiled contentedly, "and it was fabulous."_

I know that she's a very supportive friend. I overheard her in chemistry promising her freckled lab partner that she would go to his band event and then make the same promise to her pink-hair-tipped friend as she walked out of French class, even though she seemed as if she was sacrificing something important to her to do so.

I also know that she's a forgiving and extremely patient friend.

_"So, Cadie, are you coming to the band competition this Saturday?" freckled boy asked. "Uh…Saturday? From when to when?" she asked, biting her lip like she does when she's anxious about something. What exactly she was anxious about I was uncertain. It could have been about committing her weekend to a potentially boring event, or it could do with the fact that her lab partner was bobbing up and down in his excitement nearly knocking over their beakers. _

_He puckered his brow, "I think, from 9 to 3? I'm not sure, but you can ask Maggie." She nodded and then asked, "Can you pass me the graduated cylinder? No, the tall one with the slider thing that goes up and down. Yeah, that one." While she was carefully measuring, he prodded, "So can you come?" and began to do his part of the lab work finally. She sighed and then put on reassuring smile, "Yeah, sure I would love to come." At this point, I had turned my attention back to my own lab handing Jasper the ethidium bromide. However, my attention was quickly returned to them when I heard her nervous pleading, "Um, Jeffrey…I don't think you should do that yet…Shouldn't it be heated first?" But instead of waiting to double-check the instructions, the incompetent rushed right on head, causing their solution to spectacularly react, foaming out of the beaker, all over their station, and onto the floor._

As I recalled her quick reassurances of forgiveness and promises of not being annoyed even though they had to stay after class to clean it up and also stay after school to make-up the lab, I couldn't help but worry that these same highly admirable qualities could result in her being taken advantage of and being hurt. This thought gave me pause. I had been searching for two weeks for the answer as to why she brought about such a strong reaction in me but other than pain I had never given a name to it.

I stopped watching the clouds scroll by and closed my eyes and admitted to myself that Edward was right: I felt an overwhelming desire to protect this frail human. Now why this was has slowly begun to dawn on me. She is like _Her _in that she is one of those rare creatures that actually cares about others more than herself. After decades of encountering people, both vampire and human alike, who were easily persuaded to look the other way and not help their fellow man, simply because they deep down did not want to inconvenience themselves, I have become extra sensitive to those who are impossible to influence, purely because ignoring others' needs goes against the very fabric of their being. And she is most definitely one of them.

However, before I could process this any further, I began to feel my tension ease and be replaced with an eerie calm.

I opened my eyes and looked straight up to be welcomed with the sight of Jasper's questioning gaze and Alice's knowing grin. I secretly wished that Alice was not there so I could voice my new thoughts to Jasper, but then again I wanted more time before I did so.

"Who won this time?" I finally asked.

"Well, not you," Alice lightly jeered, at the same time Jasper simply stated, "We tied."

I sat up and shrugged, "I wasna in the mood for moose or elk. Next time find something more challenging."

"If you wanted to experience more of a 'challenge,' why didn't you ask Emmett or Edward?" Alice questioned, slightly offended.

"Because I wanted the pleasure of _your_ company," I replied throwing my arm around her shoulders. She's annoying, but cute. "And besides have you seen Emmett eat?" I shuddered dramatically and made an exaggerated grimace, "It's disgusting."

Before she could note that Edward is a far more fastidious eater than Jasper or her, I turned to Jasper and challenged, "Wanna see who can get to the Range Rover faster? First one there gets to drive!" and took off knowing either way that the two of them would find a way to be "coupley" cute.

* * *

"Hey kiddo, Old Tink and Zach are coming over to watch the game tonight. You don't mind do you?"

I looked up from my ever-so-riveting history text to see Ian's excited-yet-guilty face. "No, but don't expect me to join you. I have a paper to write."

"Nah, didn't expect you to, especially since that one is what due on Tuesday. Or is it Thursday?" He cheekily replied.

"Ha, ha. It's Tuesday, but I prefer to not have it hanging over my head all weekend." I got up to wander into the kitchen to find out if we had enough food for two men and a growing teenage boy. "Do you need me to fix anything for dinner?" I threw over my shoulder.

"Nope. We have plenty of leftovers, including that casserole that I made the other day." I crinkled my nose at this. Ian is a great cook, knows it, and likes to experiment on occasion. This last one was a definite fail in my opinion, but he liked it. Hopefully, his quests won't be as discriminating in their tastes as I am.

"Alright, then. I promise to wander down and say hello either before the game starts or before they leave." I returned to the den, picked up my book, and made my way upstairs to my room.

When I got there I noticed that the sun was peaking out behind the clouds, so I plopped on my bed and enjoyed the view before returning to the grind.

I was glad the Daniels' crew was coming over. I'd been here practically a month and had not seen them yet. I would have seen them last week but they came over while I was at Jeffrey and Maggie's competition. I was glad to go, and it had proven to be more fun than I thought when the words "band competition" were mentioned. The school received second place, which was quite an achievement since they were competing against far larger ones in the district that had more money to devote to their programs. However, I had been really looking forward to seeing them, especially since they are the few in the area who can speak French fluently. My little conversations with Mr. Keegan are just not enough, especially since his attendance is so erratic.

Although I'm envious of his opportunity to experience the outdoors, I don't resent the fact that he gets to. I admire the Cullens for making family traditions like that a priority.

I do resent, however, his insinuating that I might not be able to handle having Jeffrey for a lab partner.

_"So I wanna thank you for helping me earn twenty bucks today," the Imp grinned mischievously at me before class even started._

_I whispered back, "How did I do that?"_

_"Well, Jasper bet that you would last longer than Tombs' previous partners before there would be an epic fail."_

_"And you bet what exactly?" I hissed, irritated for some unknown reason that he had witnessed that disaster._

_"That you wouldn't even make it through the first one, of course," he goaded. "No offense, but I don't see how you can stem the inevitable. You're too soft."_

At this recollection, I vowed that I would make Jeffrey Toombs the best chemistry lab partner ever. But before I could launch into a full-out strategic planning session, I heard Old Tink's booming voice announcing his arrival.

"Where is she? Where's my Cadie, _ma petite_?" Ian's muffled response was not going to be sufficient in pacifying the man, as evidenced by his great huffs of protest, so I got up and made my way down to greet _mon oncle._

As I was entering the room, I overheard Old Tink inform Ian that his daughter Ronnie was bringing her fiancé to meet the family this week all the way from New Orleans. His voice was gruff with either irritation or happiness. It was difficult to tell.

"Long time, no see, Harrison," I teased as I attempted to hug the great bear of a man, who was my father's long time friend. I say attempted because when this powerful man reciprocates the gesture, your body automatically tries to push against him to prevent him crushing you.

"It's Old Tink, or just Tink, or Uncle Tink to you, _ma petite_. No one but my sister calls me by my given name anymore. You know that." He scolded as he set me down. I smirked at this, not because of the incongruity it produced between his chosen title and his physique. No, I had long ago reconciled the pixie-ish nomenclature to this great big bear of a man who had long salt and peppered blond hair frequently worn in a ponytail, a thick mustache, and twinkling light brown eyes. Town legend is that he had received the name because his mother used to bewail the fact that all he would amount to was a "grubby old tinker." However, what amused me was a simple self-whimsy. I was reminded of my earlier designation of the short Cullen girl as "Tiny Tink," and that mental incongruity of Old Tink and Tiny Tink side-by-side was too much to not express in my typical unlady-like snort.

"Hey, Old Man, move over so I can get in on the action too," a voice said from behind Old Tink and from farther above me than I remember from the last time I saw him.

"Zach!" I squealed in part delight and part shock as his fifteen year-old self hugged me with nearly the same amount of force as his father. He had shaggy golden blond hair and brown eyes much like his father, but while his dad was tall and broad, he was tall and lanky, though that might change in the next few years.

"Hey Cadie," his newly acquired deep voice replied, causing him to duck his head a little in abashment. "How do you like your car?"

"Oh, the Hearse? I adore it! I have so many ideas for how I want to paint it. It will take another couple of months to decide what I want to do exactly." I happily replied.

"You call our masterpiece, the Hearse?!" Harrison half cried in outrage, half hooted in laughter.

Ian, impatient to watch his game, interrupted the pleasantries with, "As touching as this moment is, can we continue it later? Maybe during a period break? The game is about to start."

We all shrugged at each other, quite used to Ian's pre-game anticipation. They headed into the den, and I returned to my room and the Napoleonic Wars.

A little over an hour later, I snuck down to the kitchen to get myself some dinner. I was met with the sight of Zach dumping his barely touched casserole into the garbage.

"Don't worry. I have some sandwich fixings and canned soup that you can have instead," I cheerily declared causing him to smile sheepishly.

"I don't know how my dad ate all of that and went back for seconds," he stated in slight awe and disgust.

"His taste buds have been destroyed by that acidic coffee he has at that shop. That's why," I declared as I pulled the Dijon mustard and pastrami out of the fridge.

He nodded in agreement but then asked me, "So how come you're doing homework instead of watching the game? I thought you liked hockey."

"Oh, I do! It's just I hate watching it on TV with the commentators jabbering away. Plus, hockey fans at the stadium are much more fun to watch than our dads alone." I explained. "It's been awhile since I've gone to a game, though." I usually went with Ashley and her older brother and his friends. That was no longer possible since their dad moved them clear across the country to Vancouver for his new job.

"Well, we'll have to go sometime next year. None of the local high schools made it to play offs or you wouldn't have to wait so long." I smiled my acceptance of this endearing invite, but refrained from commenting further as I noticed him tuck-in to devour his monster of a sandwich.

After he finished, he randomly asked me, "So how's it going with your French partner?"

"Uh, good, I guess. Er – why do you ask?" feeling as if the entrance to the rabbit hole was beginning to loom before me again and I was unable to avoid it.

"Ha, noticed you didn't ask how I knew about him," he teased.

It became clear to me that I was not going to get an answer until I did, so I obliged, "Alright then, how did you know about my partner?" preparing for a long list of he-said she-saids.

"I happened to overhear Ms. Girard talking to her sister at mass the other week about how he was desperately trying to get out of having the new girl as his conversationalist partner. Apparently, when he couldn't make any head way with her, he went to talk to the school secretary to try to drop the class." Smack! I hadn't just fallen down the rabbit hole; I had been launched down it with a rocket strapped to my back.

He gazed at me somewhat apologetically, "Now the why I asked is a much easier question to answer. I figured if he was a jerk enough to go out of his way to do all that, then he was jerk enough to treat you like crap, when he didn't get his way, and I wanted to check in with you. But I'm glad to hear that's not the case." I nodded my understanding glumly. To "cheer" me up, he continued with, "I also asked you that because my only other option was to ask you why you fainted in P.E. the other day." He impishly taunted as he went back to watch his game, unknowingly leaving me in a quandary of emotions, the insensitive git.

Now to be fair, I shouldn't direct my resentment towards the messenger. I ought to be, and am, more furious with the source. It was a little unsettling to find out that someone you viewed at the time as a complete stranger, and therefore was given the benefit of a doubt despite his strange behavior, took such an instant disliking to you.

Was his week long absence because of me? It was hard for me to believe this. I mean after all it sounds a little narcissistic. But it didn't make sense for him to request a different partner, when even in that first exchange it should have been obvious to him that I was the closest thing to an equal in skill level in that class as he was going to get.

As I finished cleaning up the mess, I realized it was rather petty to be worrying about what a boy thought about me, when more important things like Lottie and Simon's fate was to be decided in a few weeks.

Then again, it might be a nice distraction. This thought produced a cacophony of voices in my head, mainly my mother exclaiming, "Only you would distract yourself from worrying with worrying, Cadie!" and Ashley declaring disgustedly, "You're hopeless!"

Who knew the Napoleonic Wars would be a subject of refuge for an overworked mind?

* * *

**AN:** Translations -

_ma petite = my little girl_

_mon oncle = my uncle_

Next chapter - Confrontation and Surprise Visit


	10. Ch 9 Confrontation and Surprise Visit

Chapter 9 – Confrontation and Surprise Visit

I rolled out of bed on Monday morning, realizing that I had survived my first month of my new life. I had sort of made friends with Emilee, the popular fashion queen, but it was rather difficult to tell since it didn't seem that her two closest friends cared for me. I had made more progress with the band geeks, Jeffrey and Maggie, which was unsurprising considering the fact that I had always gravitated towards those more musically inclined than I, and the nerds, Dani and Regan, who are also making bets on how long I'll last as "Tombs's" partner. The two people I did not know where I stood with were Max and Evan.

Max is continually waffling between treating me as just a friend to hinting that he wants to be more than friends. The latter is always catching me by surprise, so I never know how to take him.

Mr. Keegan, on the other hand, has gone from not talking to me, to treating me as an acquaintance, to downright insulting me, and with the new information that Zach provided me on Saturday, I'm at a complete loss.

Before I went out the door, I left a note, reminding Ian that Regan would be coming over to study chemistry tonight, next to his percolator so that he would see it when he went to make his second cup of coffee. The reasoning behind my doing the history paper this weekend was because I knew that tonight I would be all tied up trying to help Regan understand subatomic particles, when all she comprehends is that they are really tiny. I had to roll my eyes at this. She's a nerd, but a soon-to-be English major type of nerd.

When I got to school, the first thing I noticed was Emilee directing Tiffany and Genevieve in hanging up bright pink posters announcing the Valentine's Day school dance. I stopped and made a roundabout and complicated detour that would have made the town's planner extremely envious. It was too early to deal with Valentine's Day drama.

I spent the rest of my day carefully avoiding the topic. It's not that I'm a die hard anti-couples' day girl. I'm actually quite apathetic about it. I don't understand the drama surrounding this highly commercialized day devoted to a concept that most of the world doesn't even understand. As a result I try to steer clear of discussing this day that usually produces extreme reactions.

Anyways, I managed to successfully accomplish this mission with only a small hiccup at lunch, when Emilee casually asked me if I was going to go.

"I might," I replied noncommittally. She might have asked me more. I don't know, and I didn't frankly care at the time either because at that moment I saw the occupants of the far back table, and my stomach began to twist and tighten at the thoughts of the coming confrontation.

* * *

I noticed that she wasn't eating again. Not even her normal fallback of semi-fresh produce. She looked upset. She had been acting odd all day today too. From my office window this morning, I noticed her careful maneuvering around the school with her hood up and head tucked down.

What the hell was going on with this girl?

I wanted desperately to ask her just that in class today, but I never got my chance. When it was time to break into pairs, she turned her chair to face me but didn't move it any closer, crossed her arms, and leaned back while squinting at me accusingly.

A million possible things ran through my mind, but what came out of her mouth was not among them.

"So, I hear that you went out of your way to _not_ have me as your partner. Care to explain?"

I sighed and rubbed my hands through my hair with frustration as I searched for an answer, so I stalled. "You heard about that huh? I kinda hoped that you somehow wouldn't, and I even believed you didn't when you hadn't mentioned it before now."

"Well, I did," she stonily replied.

New tactic: go on the offensive. "You know, when Jasper told me that you were gutsy enough to have a staring contest with Edward that first week, I didn't believe him. I told myself that you didn't have it in you. I guess, I was wrong." I imperiously shrugged, dismissing the matter as of no consequence.

"I guess you were."

I just looked at her with a raised eyebrow waiting for her to cave. Although her voice and attitude were full of determination not to give me an inch, her tale-tell sign was giving her discomfort away. I admired her for trying, but she was no match for my Irish stubbornness, nor was her desire for answers as great as my need to avoid them.

"Is that all you have to say?!" she gestured with great irritation.

At this point I thought it was better to retreat, and simply resorted to the day's predetermined topic: favorite types of food.

She readjusted her chair so that it wasn't facing me directly and fired back her answers in nearly monosyllabic format.

If I hadn't been so confused about how wrong I was about her and my feelings of regret for hurting her, I would have laughed at this little tantrum. In comparison to Rosalie's towering terrors, she was like a little Yorkshire terrier yelping its itty-bitty frustrations to only half the house.

I wondered then if she would ever forgive me. But then again, isn't it better this way?

She keeps her safe distance from me, and I …I watch from afar just like I did the last time.

* * *

"So what's up with you?" Regan asked me, most likely perturbed at my surly attitude. It's not the best one to have when dealing with someone as confused as she is about chemistry.

"Nothing really… I just …woke up on the wrong side of the bed today." I finished lamely. She looked at me, but for some reason known only to her, she let it go. If this had been my friend Ashley, I would not have gotten off the hook so easily, so for the first time in a long time, I did not resent that she was there, and I was here.

The doorbell rang then, and since Ian was in his workshop, I had to go and get it.

When I opened the door, I beheld a tall, willowy woman in her late twenties with dark brown hair and dark brown eyes and a tan complexion that I knew many women were courting cancer for.

She bounced on her heels, grabbed my hand, and waltzed right in, into my own home dragging me with her exclaiming, "Oh good, it's you. The very person I was hoping to meet. Not that I don't mind talking to Ian, but I have this feeling he shares the same view as Papa that I'm behaving like a very bad daughter bringing my beau around to meet the family only after I'm engaged."

"Er – Ronnie?" Not really recognizing her since the last time I saw her she was just entering puberty and was bemoaning the fact that she had to wear glasses, as if my nine year-old self really cared.

"Yes, it's me. I'm sorry for not introducing myself. That was rather rude of me, wasn't it? But I just recognized you instantly, I mean, you haven't changed a whole lot since the last time I saw you."

"Would you like some tea?" I interjected before she could insult me further.

"Oh yes that would be nice," she agreed readily.

I was met in the kitchen by Regan. "Who is that?"

"Um, Old Tink's daughter. You know the one who moved to New Orleans to write?" I whispered back.

"Is she going to be long, you suppose?" she asked while nervously checking her watch, most likely having heard through the grapevine the purpose for her return to town.

I bit my lip, wondering that myself along with why she needed to meet with me. "I don't know, but why don't you come in with me so that maybe she will decide to come back later if she wants an extended visit."

When we went back out to the den, I saw the reason for why she hadn't followed me into the kitchen when the water for the tea took an exceptionally long time to boil. Ian was thankfully keeping her entertained.

"Oh no, Alex isn't with me this trip. The restaurant he works at cancelled his leave because their other chef came down sick." She explained unconcernedly. "The truth is that this gives me more time to win Papa over to the idea of me marrying an American, even if he has some French ancestry."

"I don't think it's the nationality that your father objects to," Ian attempted to explain, but it looked as if his words were falling on deaf ears, which was not unusual when dealing with Ronnie, if I remembered correctly.

"Here's your tea, Ronnie," I said in the way of announcing our presence, "and this is Regan. She's a friend from school who's here to study with me for our chemistry test."

Regan being her usually blunt self stated very dramatically, "Yeah, our _big_ chemistry test, the kind that makes you want to hurl yourself out of a window, kind of big."

"Oh, I understand. Don't worry this won't take long, and then you can go back to banging your head against your books," she reassured with a chuckle. Her laugh was like someone who knew of the frustrations of stumbling their way through the maze of scientific jargon and had earned the right to gloat about how they lived to tell the harrowing tale. Ugh.

"I was telling your father, Cadie, the reason for my little visit," she continued.

"Which is …?" I prompted trying to hide my impatience. The quicker she left, the quicker I could get done with studying, and the quicker I could go to bed, hopefully able to start the new day with a better outlook on life.

"I wanted to ask if you would be my bridesmaid." It was more of a question than a statement, but it still took me awhile to respond since I spilt my tea all over myself mid-sip.

"Um…I dunno… When is it? The wedding, I mean," I asked stalling.

"The second week of June, so you see why I am all in a rush to begin planning," she stated matter-of-factly.

At Ian's pleading look, I finally answered with an affirmative, "Sure, Ronnie, but do me a favor and don't make the bridesmaid dresses too frilly and froo-frooey." I stated by way of compromise, hoping to maintain some dignity.

"Oh! No, you don't have to worry about that. Although they won't be as plain as Jessie's, I'll make certain that they are in good taste," was her not so encouraging reply. I had thought the bridesmaid dresses of her sister's wedding had been elegant in their simplicity, at least from what I had seen from the pictures.

I was about to get up and cut this interview short, when she asked me, "What are you doing on Valentine's Day weekend? I tried to free up my schedule so that I could focus more on the wedding, and unfortunately that is one of those weekends that my editor gave me off but Alex's restaurant understandably didn't. Anywho, I thought that would be a good time to pick out the bridesmaid dresses."

Oh dear God. Shopping and trying on dresses with an exuberant bride-to-be who is separated from her fiancé on Valentine's Day, and whom you barely know, but enough to know that your tastes and hers do not coincide at all. There are no words to describe the forthcoming mental agony.

I looked to Regan to help me find an excuse and she brilliantly supplied, "Oh, I'm sorry but I've already got dibs on her. She took pity on me and agreed to be my date for the weekend, since Valentine's Day always makes me so blue." I nearly choked on my tea, making yet another mess, at her pathetic delivery and easily misconstrued phrasing.

"Cadie, didn't tell me about this." Ian objected. "Where are you going?"

"To the city to watch that new horror flick…"

"Well, that won't do. Cadie hates horror movies, even I know that." Ronnie inserted appearing to still be struggling with getting over her disappointment.

Regan mouthed at me "You do?" in disbelief, while Ronnie seemed to be searching for an alternative plan.

I nodded, not surprised that she did.

Ronnie seemed to have found it because she became all excited again, "I know! Why don't I drive with you guys into the city and we can have an all-girl's weekend? I could visit with my sister while you two go and do your thing. It will be just perfect!"

In a last ditch attempt to extract myself from her claws, I tried to find a flaw in her plan, "Um … isn't Jessie going to have plans with her husband?"

"No, he has to work that night at the hospital." She turned to explain to Regan, "They both are serving their residencies." All Regan did was nod. Poor girl, in helping me it looked as if she got herself stuck in a situation that she dreaded more than I did. The only thing that could have been worse is if she had just been suckered into being a third wheel to a sickeningly sweet and mushy couple. She's one of those ultra-anti-lovey-dovey types.

Although I knew it was in my power to save my new friend and myself from this oncoming train wreck, I couldn't say no. It would be like I had just told Simon that there would be no more Christmases, ever again. So I said, "Sure, that sounds like a good idea. Why don't you call me, when you get the chance, and we can hammer out the details then? I have to finish studying for my test though." And as politely as possible I extricated myself and Regan from that incredibly awkward situation.

"Sorry about that," I apologized as we re-situated ourselves in my room.

"Don't worry about it. This gives me an excuse to refuse my older sister's request to baby-sit her kids that weekend while she dates her current loser." She stated nonchalantly, and then she smirked at me with a wicked gleam in her eyes, "And this also gives you a valid excuse to turn down those poor boys who are planning on asking you out."

I groaned at this. Of all the potential problems that I had expected in coming to a small town, being the fresh meat on the market was not one of them. Well, Regan was right: I now had a valid excuse in turning the coming offers down. I was thankful that I didn't have to lie to them because I didn't want to be one of _those _girls. People ought to be honestly told, but as gently as possible, that they are not liked. It's the decent thing to do. A lesson that Mr. Keegan had obviously never learned.

_He probably was ditching that day when_ _they offered that lesson on how to be human_, I mused bitterly to myself before returning to explaining the value of neutrons in atoms to my clueless friend.

* * *

**AN: **In honor of the upcoming holiday, I give you two chapters yet again... ; )

Enjoy!


	11. Chapter 10 Insomnia

Chapter 10 – Insomnia 

I thought it would be easier to keep my distance this time since all I felt for the girl was intense curiosity and an extreme case of over-protectiveness, but I didn't take into account the fact that the hormone-raging males would be trying to corner her all the rest of that week to ask her to the dance. It was a good thing I could not hear any of their thoughts like Edward, or I would have been tempted to either pulverize them into a finally crushed powder or to exercise my gift to the extreme by having them doing something ridiculous like dress in tu-tus and tights singing "I'm a Little Teapot" at the tops of their lungs.

My intense reaction is not because I'm jealous. No, it's not that. I have no claim on her, nor do I particularly want one. I've been down that road, and it only leads to misery.

No, I just didn't think any of them deserved her. Not her freckled lab partner who most likely couldn't dance and I'm not sure could even see over a steering wheel. Not the boy who hangs out with her at lunch either. He looks as if he would drool all over her in his attempt to give her a good night kiss. And especially, not the two guys who I overheard in history on Tuesday make a bet on who was going to get her to say yes to the dance first, probably among other things.

Edward found my concern intensely amusing. He was constantly giving me updates as to when they were going to ask and what was said if I wasn't around to hear the results. I am unsure as to what his purpose was for doing so. One would think he would be doing his best to help me forget about her, not needling me about her at every chance he could.

However, as annoying this was, I was grateful for it because it allowed me to know that she wouldn't even be going to the dance at all, not even with a group of friends. Apparently, she had plans to be out of town that weekend.

I wanted to ask her in French class about where she was going or if she was just making that up to say no or if she regretted not being able to go or … a billion other things, but the chances of my getting her to answer even one of those was looking to be impossible. She was still refusing to even look at me let alone talk to me about anything other than the pre-determined topics.

I tried anyways on Friday. I couldn't help myself.

"So I hear you have plans to be out of town on the night of the dance."

She unlocked her jaw to sigh and grit out irritatingly, "That's what I told Jeffrey, Max, and that guy Jason."

"Well, you might want to be a bit more convincing because Aaron is going to ask you next from what I hear," I advised as nonchalantly as I could. "Where are you going anyways?"

"I'll take that into consideration. Thank you for your concern." She stiffly replied, ignoring my question.

I sat through the rest of the class watching her out of the corner of my eye. She was fiddling with a piece of string this time from her sweater and nibbling on the edges of her lip. Either she was worried about the coming confrontation with Hopeful #4 or she was worried about something else.

I doubted that it was the former. The guy had no charm or technique whatsoever, and in her current mood, if I cared, I would be more concerned for his overly-inflated ego.

No, it had to be that she was anxious about something else. She had been having that same look on her face all week. The same look that she had the first week of school.

I wish whatever it was would become resolved soon because it made me want to reach over and smooth her brow and reassure her somehow. It made me feel helpless, and I hated that.

* * *

Regan was right. I knew at the time she was right, but I thought she had only been referring to Jeffrey and Max. I prepared myself for them, but not the other two. Fortunately, for the ones I had a prepared response to, they asked me first so I was in the mood to be gentle with them.

Jeffrey asked me first. I had gotten to school somewhat earlier than normal but he was there before me waiting anxiously to get it over with without any witnesses, I suppose.

_"Hey, Jeff, was there an early band practice?"_

_"Sort of, David, our section leader, wanted to get some practice in before we were interrupted by the percussionists," he replied, but just before I could say my clever response of "Oh," he continued in kind of a unintelligible rush, "But I also wanted to know if you-wanted-to-go-to-the-dance-with-me?"_

_"Oh, I'm sorry, but I can't. I already made plans that weekend," I said with as much disappointment as I could muster. I really did feel bad. I promised myself that at the next dance, I would make sure I could hang out with him without leading him on. _

_"Oh, okay then. I, uh, hope you have fun. I, er, have to go meet with David and the guys now," and with that he slumped off._

That was the hardest one. They got drastically less guilt-inducing, and the pathetic thing was they made it easy for me.

On Wednesday, Max approached me on my way to the gym.

_"Hey, Cadie, wait up!" I stopped and turned to see Max bounding towards me, looking a little too relieved that no one was with me. I had been trying all day to be surrounded by other people in the hopes that it would discourage him and he would give up._

_No such luck._

_"So, uh, I was wondering…"_

_I sighed, "Um, I'm not going to be in town, so, no, I can't go with you to the dance."_

_"Oh, I had heard that you had plans, but I was kinda hoping you could change them."_

_Now, I was seriously irritated, "Change them for you, but not for Jeffrey?" Did he think I was that kind of girl or that he was just that great of a catch?_

_I blew passed him not waiting for an answer and headed to the girls' locker room to change._

Later before I left for home that day, some senior guy on the lacrosse team, tried to pull his move on me, calling me "Baby" and suggesting that he could show me the best time I could ever have even for a city girl. I curtly thanked him for his offer but "regretfully" informed him that I had other plans before I started up my car. Thankfully, the Hearse's purr drowned out any further egotistical comments, and I was able to escape while blasting angry chick music.

Aaron attempted to do the same just as _he _predicted. If I hadn't been so annoyed, I would have laughed right in his face. He met me outside of chemistry class on Thursday, leaning up against the wall smelling a rose. When I approached, he fed me some line about how this "sweet thing" must belong to me, yada, yada, yada. I tuned him out waiting for him to pause for breath and then gave him what had now become my standard line. He, however, was not overly disappointed, and merely shrugged before walking off saying something about next time. _Fat chance_ was all I could think of in my wearied astonishment at his sheer cockiness.

I made it half-way through the morning before someone mentioned the dance to me again. I was setting out my stuff before English class quite content, secure in the fact that Max was at a wrestling match so I didn't have to deal with him today, when Emilee turned in her desk to ask me, "So how come you turned down all those guys this week?"

I stopped what I was doing and looked at her sincerely dumbfounded, "Uh, because I had plans this weekend?" Is everyone in this town selectively deaf?

"Plans can be changed for the right guy," she waved dismissively.

"You haven't met Ronnie," I assured her, a little amazed that the concept of integrity was completely missed even in this traditional town.

"I don't need to. I've met Evan Keegan. That is who you were holding out for right? I mean, if he had asked you, you would have said yes, wouldn't you?" She looked at me like one of those lawyers on cop shows when they've reached their final question in the cross-examination and you mentally play ominous drum rolls as you watch the witness break down under the pressure.

I wasn't breaking. I was too shocked too respond.

Apparently, she took my silence as confirmation because the next thing she said was "Yeah, I heard that you guys clicked after he returned from visiting his friend. If you are waiting around for him to ask, don't. He doesn't go to dances."

I would have set the girl straight, now that my brain was functioning properly again, but Mrs. Schueler had started class.

My answer would have been to question her sources because obviously they hadn't told her that I was currently not getting along with him. I would also have informed her that a promise is a promise to me and that I don't go back on my word, unless it would do more harm than good. Missing out on a dance does not qualify in this instance.

However, my personal Jiminy Cricket was whispering in my ear that maybe she was right in one instance. I would have been quite flattered if the Irish Lad had asked me to the dance.

On the other hand, I argued back. If he had asked me, I would have turned tail and run because no guy goes around trying to avoid you and then belittling you to your face, to then wanting to go on a date with you, without having a potentially embarrassing agenda in mind for you.

_Whatever helps you sleep at night_, my conscience chirped.

* * *

It in fact did not help me sleep at night. So between disturbing thoughts of self-doubt concerning my feelings for a guy (which is the first time this has ever happened) and my worries about the Matthews case that was going to be decided at the end of the week, I looked like I had caught whatever was plaguing the Cullen Clan, except without the added benefit of being drop dead gorgeous.

I made it though. I made it to Thursday, and I spent two hours after school pulling an Ian, rocking back and forth waiting anxiously for my cell phone to ring.

It finally did at 5:21.

"Hello?" I couldn't tell who it was because there was so much noise in the background.

"Hey, you two! Pipe it down. You can talk to her in a second. Alright?" I realized then that the noise in the background was the happy clamoring of my babies.

"So, if you can't tell Cadie, this is Tyrone and the courts ruled in our favor."

I was silently crying in relief at this point, only able to sniff out, "They did?"

"Yeah, Vanessa no longer has custody of the kids. I do, and she is going to jail for a few years along with being committed to rehab and taking anger management classes."

"Oh, that's good. How did the kids do on the stand and with seeing Vanessa again?"

"They were troopers on the stand. The state's prosecuting attorney did a really good job preparing them so that they would know what to expect, and the defense attorney didn't pressure them all that hard. It was pretty evident by the police officers' testimonies what the situation was. It was harder with Vanessa, more so for Simon. He was really scared; he hid behind me when he was brought into the courtroom. Lottie, I think, is just really confused." He sighed at this. Poor guy, how do you explain all this to a child?

"Daaaaaaad!" I chuckled mid-sniff when I could hear little Simon's voice plaintively pleading for the phone. He never was very patient.

"Alright, alright. Let me put you on speaker phone, okay?" I could hear him setting the phone down and the kids moving around, and then he said, "Okay, here you go. Say hi."

"Hi, Cadie!" Lottie squealed, and Simon got out, "Hewo, Cadie!"

"Hiya, guys! How are my sweetings?" This was all I needed before they proceeded to tell me all about what they had been doing with their dad, the cool police officers, and the funny-looking judge, prattling happily away.

This only stopped when Lottie said more seriously, "Mommy was there, Cadie."

"Was she?" I asked gently, holding my breath.

"Yeah, I felt bad for her. She looked so sad. I almost ran-ded up to her to give her a hug. But then I 'membered the bad things she did. Should I've given her a hug? 'Cause I don't think she knows that we love her. I said a lot of bad things about her to Ms. Kensi'ton."

I let it out, praying that I had enough wisdom to help this hurt little darling, "Oh sweetie, you weren't saying bad things about your mama. You were telling the truth weren't you?"

"Yes," came her tremulous reply.

"Well then, your mama knows the truth too and she understands that was all that you were doing. She knows that you weren't saying those things because you hate her. She probably was sad because she feels sorry for what she did. Okay?"

"Okay," she sniffed.

"How are you doing, little guy?"

"I'm not little! I'm going to be five 'ears old!" was his wonderfully outraged reply.

"Oh that's right! My bad. And what would you like for your birthday, _mon grand_?" This returned the conversation to a more upbeat note until we said our goodbyes. Tyrone promised that they would call again in a few weeks.

Being able to finally have this issue resolved and with a relatively happy ending, I was able to get through the next 36 hours in a blissful state of happiness despite the fact that I was doomed to spend my weekend with Ronnie and a disgruntled Regan.

I discovered not too long after we were in the car that I was wrong about the last part though.

"So Regan, I hear that you want to be a writer," was Ronnie's opening statement as she pulled out of my driveway in her fortunately spacious rental car.

"How did you …?" I could hear Regan's shocked voice from the backseat.

"Oh, Cadie told me that you wrote for the newspaper, and so I assumed, correctly I see, that was what you wanted to do. I wrote for my school's newspaper too before I went away to college, and then I wrote for their newspaper as well."

This sparked an exchange that continued nearly the whole way there. Ronnie found the one topic that could light up Regan's eyes and make her as animated as Emilee when she is talking about clothes.

I eventually slept. I probably would have fallen asleep sooner but I felt it would be rude to do so. However, having deprived myself of sleep for the past two weeks and being in a car that hardly gives any feedback resulted in the inevitable - that I would relinquish my grasp on the conscious world.

* * *

**AN: **French translation -

_mon grand_ = my big guy

Next chapter - Fate


	12. Chapter 11 Fate

Chapter 11 – Fate 

I noticed on Friday that whatever had been bothering her seemed to no longer be a problem. She was joining in on her friends' conversations and laughing more. Even the dark circles under her eyes that so disturbed me were not as bad as they had been. I hoped that whatever her plans were for the weekend that she would be able to catch up on her rest.

My plans for the weekend consisted of taking Nessie to the airport to pick up Jacob Black. He was returning from visiting his family in Washington and checking up on his old pack. It became my delightful duty to do so instead of Bella's because she and Edward had decided to go to the dance.

Probably couldn't stand the thought of Nessie's incessant chatter the whole way there.

It wasn't too bad, really. She would go on for a little bit occasionally asking me questions that I had no idea how to answer before she would drift off into silence. She was a cute kid, and I kinda felt sorry for her. It was only when Jacob was around that she got any social interaction outside of the family really. She may look seventeen now, but she was only 9 objective years old. They were understandably being over cautious.

Nessie's phone went off, and I could hear her making sounds of agreement and understanding as I was pulling into the airport arrival lanes.

"He said that he's at the south entrance at door number 4." She informed me once she got off the phone.

"Of course, he is," I muttered as that was the one farthest from us with bumper to bumper traffic between us and him.

We eventually got there, and I managed not to laugh at her excitement as she kept asking if I saw him, if she could get out and get him, and if I would use my gift to make an opening so that we could get to him faster. My answer was no repeatedly to all three.

She raced out of the car as soon as we were semi-parked and jumped into his arms for a hug. She must have been doing her mental communicating thing because she was strangely quiet, while he was putting his bags in the back of Emmett's Jeep.

"My trip was fine. No, I was able to get the aisle seat and stretch out this time, and of course, I brought you something," he patiently and lovingly answered her silent questions. "And your grandfather says hello and sent you something too." This seemed to appease her so she climbed into the back allowing him the extra leg room.

After he shut the door, he turned to me and said, "How are you doing Evan?" After learning my story, the shape shifter began to warm up to me. I never really understood why, but enjoyed his friendship, nonetheless, despite his stink.

"I'm fine. Could be better. Could be worse."

"Ha! He's been moping around over some girl at school," Nessie interjected disgustedly. She had been rather frustrated with my lack of concentration during our chess matches.

"I know. You told me over the phone. Has our patient not improved any?" Jacob laughingly required.

"Nope, our patient's condition has worsened, especially since she is no longer talking to him," she smugly replied.

As to why they were referring to me as their "patient" I was sure I didn't want to know, so I unsubtly changed the topic, "How's Leah doing?" It seemed to work since for most of the ride back I got to hear about his latest frustrations with his beta, which was then followed with an update about Seth's successes.

Needless to say with the arrival of Jacob, it was a highly eventful weekend at the Cullen House, and thus, I was somewhat distracted from my thoughts about the Darby girl.

Come Monday morning, however, it was difficult not to be overly impatient to get to school. I wanted to get there early so I could observe her from my advantageous position in the back office.

She looked refreshed. The circles were gone from under her eyes, and she was better able to pay attention in chemistry, even getting the gumption to ask Mr. Hoffman a question, which completely threw off the rhythm of his lecture. It was quite entertaining.

Her good mood must have continued because she magnanimously decided to answer my question about her weekend.

"It was good. Interesting, but good," she bemusedly replied.

I eyed her curiously, hoping she would elaborate. She did, still with that odd little smile as she said, "Oh, Regan Parker and my family friend hit it off better than I expected. I got to see Jessie, my family friend's older sister, who treated me to horror stories of when I was a little kid, and we went to see a movie and shopped some. It was fun, I guess." She seemed a little surprised at that fact.

"How about you? What did you do this weekend?"

"I picked up a family friend from the airport," I answered simply, slightly intrigued by the quirk of fate that we had spent similar weekends.

Class ended, and she packed up her stuff and prepared to go out into what must have been, for her, freezing weather as she spent more time than usual bundling up in her outer gear.

I followed her out of the classroom and towards the gym wondering if her forgiving spirit would extend to me again tomorrow as well.

* * *

I got back from my little all-girls' weekend thing rejuvenated and highly elated that I would not be seeing the happy bride-to-be until April, when she would officially be bringing her fiancé. On seeing Jessie this weekend, I finally remembered why Ronnie was my least favorite of the Daniels' kids. She was the most pushy.

One would think that the upcoming doctor and general surgeon would be more uptight than the free spirited writer. In this case, one would most definitely be wrong. I feel sorry for whoever is helping her plan this wedding because she definitely fits the profile of bridezilla.

My good mood continued all through Monday, even during my daily encounter with Mr. Keegan. All good things must come to an end, though, because Tuesday morning I woke up to a snow storm that kept me trapped indoors with Ian for four days and the power went out on the third. Luckily for me, Ian had a back up generator and a huge stockpile of already chopped wood available. I hate being cold, and Ian hates being cooped up. The man wanted to talk the whole time about anything and nothing, and all I wanted to do was sleep in hibernation until it was all over. This was a bad combination for morale.

So even though I'm not really all that big on ice skating or skiing or any of those other jolly holiday type activities, I agreed readily enough on Saturday morning to join Emilee and the others at their little snow day outing. Anything to get out of the house.

Since I had no idea how to get wherever it was that we were going to, she agreed to come pick me up. I got into the car and sat in the backseat with Genevieve, treated to the harrowing tale of missing out on some episode of whatever reality TV show that she is devoted to.

When we piled out of the car, I was taken aback by the breathtaking view. We were parked in a designated lot on one side of the bridge that crossed over a slow moving river below, which was thinly covered with ice. To the right of us was a steep hill, which looked to be where they were planning on doing their sledding, and off to the left was The View.

It made my fingers itch to have a pencil, a stick of charcoal, (anything really), and a pad of paper so I could sketch it. There were snow covered mountains stretching as far as the eye could see, and the river was snaking back up into them, and if one followed the river down, one could see the valley below.

"Cadie, are you alright?" Max asked me. "You're kinda blue in the face." Like I said, it was breathtaking.

"Yeah, I'm fine. How are you Max?"

"Couldn't be better." He said while rubbing his hands in apparent eagerness. "Listen, the guys and I are going to go start sledding if you care to join us, ladies."

"Oh, sure! We'll be right there." Emilee replied.

"Er…I think I'll pass." I said. I had been eyeing the climb up and imagining the number of face plants into the snow I would have made in trying to get up it. It was not very encouraging.

They all looked a little discouraged and unsure of themselves as if they didn't know how to respond. I'm generally not so slow, but we were low on coffee this morning so my mental capacities were not up to par, but I eventually figured it out, "Oh no! You don't have to stay down here with me. I'll be fine." I reassured.

"Are you sure?" Genevieve asked. It seemed as if she couldn't comprehend anyone wanting to split up the group and go against the pack's decision.

Fortunately, I saw Dani and Maggie getting out of their cars, so I was able to give her an excuse that she could accept, "Yeah, I'll be fine. Besides I see a few other people that I want to talk to, and I'm not all that big on sledding."

They collectively nodded their assent and made their way up the Hill of Peril. While I waited for Maggie and Dani to join me, I returned my gaze back to The View.

"It's gorgeous. Isn't it?" Dani quietly stated as she came up to stand next to me. I simply nodded.

We exchanged pleasantries and how-are-you's and cabin fever aggravations as we meandered down the path following the railing. Before the miracle of miracles happened –

Maggie remembered her mega thermos in her car.

This thermos contained the best espresso any non-Italian but Italian named family could ever produce. It was almost as potent as Ian's java (except for this morning's, of course). I felt like I had died and gone to heaven until one of them threw a snowball into my face.

Oh, it was so on.

We had our twenty minute war, and then refilled our now cold cups of deliciousness, alternating between watching the scenery spread out before us and watching the antics of the crazies coming down the hill.

I was distracted from the potentially dangerous stunt that Aaron and his gang were attempting to do (something like creating their own ski jump slope out of the stacked pile of logs a third of the way down the slope) by the Keegan boy getting out of his massive four door truck that he had parked just on the other side of the road by the bridge.

Who could believe that the man-boy could make The View pale in comparison? My fingers were literally twitching for even a crayon to capture the moment.

I must have been extremely absorbed in my sketching fantasy because it took me awhile too compute the thunderous noise and screams that rang out behind me. I only finally did because I saw his beautiful face become contorted in an expression of horror.

I'm not sure what exactly happened, but when I turned around to find the source of the commotion, I saw a giant log come tumbling down straight towards Maggie, Dani, and I.

I managed to shove Dani and Maggie into motion, but when I checked over my shoulder to see if we could make it, I realized that if I had wanted to save myself then I should have gone the other direction.

I could have tried to make a run for it. But it really would have made no difference if I was squished between the railing and the thousand or more pounds log that was coming my way or if I met my fate right here. So I accepted my fate head on, only closing my eyes at the last second, grateful that my new friends were not sharing in this rather sticky end but equally sorry that they had to witness it.

The impact that I was waiting for hit me, but not from the direction that I had been expecting. I was side-swiped over the railing and airborne when my body finally caught up with the current events and I let out my mental "_Merde_!"

And then I and whatever had hit me plummeted through the ice and into the freezing water below.

* * *

**AN: **not terribly original, I know, but I hope you enjoyed it anyways!

Will be updating soon... : )


	13. Chapter 12 Iridescent Knight

Chapter 12 – Iridescent Knight

I never got the chance to find out if she had forgiven me because of the blizzard.

I spent the next four days trying to distract myself from my anxieties with activities like helping Esme plan her new remodeling project and teaching Nessie a new song on her fiddle. I was also distracted by Rosalie's bitter resentment of the shape shifter's presence and his equal annoyance at her very existence.

However, they were not enough; the apprehensive thoughts concerning her well-being kept on intruding.

Did she have power? Was she warm enough? Did she have access to water? Would anyone reach her and her father in time if there was a problem? Their house was on the outskirts of town, aggravatingly isolated. So many things could go wrong.

When the storm finally cleared, I decided for my peace of mind and the rest of the family's that I would take Jacob and Nessie with me for an excursion. I carefully avoided thinking about the destination and managed to keep Nessie from trying to ferret it out and end up giving my plan away. I wanted to surprise her and take her to where I knew the local kids were going to hang out.

When we got there, I managed to back my truck that Rosalie had finally finished tuning to her satisfaction into the last available parking space. I was getting out when I saw the Darby girl. She looked adorable all bundled up in her black and purple snow gear. More importantly, she looked happy and healthy even though she was slightly embarrassed that she got caught staring at me.

That was until I saw Them and then It. Two of the idiots who had asked her to the dance had apparently been trying to do some stupid stunt to impress the girls who were now screaming in horror. The boys had collided with their poorly made ramp, resulting in one of the heavier logs to come crashing down the hill - straight for Cadie and her friends.

I wasted precious time trying to mentally persuade her to run towards me, but of course that didn't work. She did however get moving - just in the wrong direction. She abandoned her chance to dodge the oncoming log to push her paralyzed friends to safety, but then she stopped moving and _smiled_. Smiled?!

I had not remained stationary while I watched this girl abandon all sense of self-preservation, but had rather pulled (what I would later call) an Edward and tackled the crazy girl, taking her over the railing to the river below.

She finally began reacting normally as she swore in French right before we crashed through the ice and into the water below.

I was able to keep a hold on her as she fought against me in panic and punch through to the surface; however, we had drifted to the other side of the bridge where no one was looking for us.

Amidst the wails of the terrified humans, I was able to shout and get Jacob's attention, "Get a rope over here, you mangy mutt! We're on the other side! Move it, she's freezing!"

While he was getting the rope to tie to the bridge and throw out to us, I was busy reassuring myself that Cadie was breathing.

She was looking at me while trying to control her chattering. Her eyes were bigger than they normally were and darker as her pupils were dilated in shock.

"Are you alright?" She nodded a little perplexed. "You just hang in there and I'll get you safe and warm. Okay?" I reassured.

"Here you go!" Jacob threw me the rope and I caught it, wrapping it around the both of us with one arm before he pulled us out and towards the shore.

Nessie, the clever girl, met us with blankets and said, "The truck is on and the heat is blasting. She can sit in there until the emergency vehicles get here to take her to the hospital. Somebody called them as soon as you two went over."

I reluctantly handed Cadie over to her care to remove her wet things, while I did the same. Alice was going to be a bit miffed that I ruined the nice jacket she had designed for me.

"You might want to sit in there too," Jacob muttered under his breath as he passed by me to open the door to the truck.

After wrapping Cadie in a few more blankets, I placed her in the backseat and then sat in the front passenger seat with a few of my own for show, while Jacob and Nessie reassured the crowd.

It was a pity that Jacob hadn't been on my side of the truck, because then he could have saved her and used his body heat to keep her warm while I would have been free to work my magic among the crowd. I did the best I could to do damage control. First I focused on her two friends who had been standing there with her, now talking anxiously to Nessie, and implanted the images that I had been standing a lot closer to her and had been able to grab her and roll down the hill into the river and that the ice had been a lot thinner so that with our combined body weight it was enough to fall through. I did the same with as many of the others as I could and those I couldn't I noted to do later after Carlisle cleared me at the hospital.

The paramedics finally made their appearance. "They're here, Cadie. Hang in there just for a wee bit longer, please?"

"Mhmm, since you asked so nice…" she mumbled from beneath the blankets.

They loaded us up into separate ambulances, and the last I saw of her was her puzzled expression as she overheard someone describe what had happened.

"Merde," I muttered under my breath, taking a page out of her book. The family was going to kill me.

* * *

The water was glacial and dark. A death trap. The current sucked me under, twisting me all about. I tried to make my way back to the surface. I kicked and I fought, but whatever had hit me was fighting back.

I managed to reduce my panic enough to look closer at my salvation-turned-obstacle and nearly swallowed a mouthful of water in astonishment.

It was Evan Keegan. His pale skin practically radiated in the dark water.

Evan Keegan was my rescuer. Evan Keegan was holding me to him so that we wouldn't get separated. Evan Keegan was punching through the ice with his fist. What the hell?!

Evan Keegan was pushing me out of the hole he had made with his fist and calling for help. It sounded like he was calling for his dog. Weird.

He looked at me then, barely breathing, "Are you alright?"

I nodded. While I was racked with the chills produced by the bitter wind blowing on my wet skin, he was unbothered. Not even his hand seemed to be giving him any difficulty, even though it should be a bloody mess.

"You just hang in there and I'll get you safe and warm. Okay?" He pleaded. He seemed to need reassurance more than I did. I was just sadly incapable of returning the favor.

A rope was thrown to him, and he tied it around us. I tried to help as much as I could, but it appeared as if he had it under control.

We were dragged towards the shore and helped up the bank by a big guy, who must have been who he was calling "Mutt." If he could transform into one, I would guess he'd at least be the size of a bull mastiff on super steroids.

This girl that I had never seen before took off my shoes and as much of my wet clothes as decently possible and wrapped me up in blankets. Evan came over and wrapped me in even more blankets and then put me in the back of his truck. The heat was on so high that I first felt as if I was being jabbed with a thousand needles, making me writhe as much as anyone could, being a blanket mummy as I was.

I probably could have spared a few blankets for Evan, but he appeared as if he didn't even need it. Not one shiver. It didn't make any sense. He only had two!

I finally noticed that Maggie and Dani were standing near the truck trying to make sure I was okay. If I could have moved, I would have waved, not that it would be very reassuring to see my pale arm shaking like a kite tail in the wind.

I turned my attention to Evan. He was stiffly sitting looking out the window focused intensely on Maggie, Dani, and the other girl. Then his eyes moved to Emilee and those standing around her. He went from group to group like that, anxious about something. I would have asked him about it; in fact, I knew I should, at least to do something to keep myself awake because the oven furnace of a truck cab was working too well and I could feel myself drifting asleep.

I jerked out of a doze, when I heard the sirens and then Evan turned around to look at me. His eyes were really dark today. "They're here, Cadie. Hang in there just for a wee bit longer, please?"

"Mhmm, since you asked so nice…" was all I could say. I wanted to tease him about his cute little accent to lighten the mood, but that took too much energy.

I knew I was truly out of it when all I could think about when I saw the EMTs was that although they were cute they did not compare to Evan. No one really ever could.

I was able to re-focus my thoughts, and just as I did I overheard Maggie tell one of the police officers that the Keegan boy had rescued me while trying to avoid the oncoming log, which resulted in the both of us tumbling over the railing onto the ice and then into the water.

That made no sense at all. Then again, nothing in the past half hour had made any sense. Maybe it was all a bad dream concocted by my cabin fevered mind, and I was really just asleep sitting by the fire in the den still waiting for the blizzard to end.

I closed my eyes and pretended it was so. I was pretending so well that I almost believed it until –

"Ow!" The paramedic had inserted an IV without warning me, or at least making sure I was paying attention when he was.

"Sorry." He said with no sign of an apologetic tone. "We're going to be at the hospital in a little less than fifteen minutes. Can you hang in there?"

I nodded curtly, swearing all the while to myself that if one more person asked me that, I would actually hang myself.

I make a terrible patient. Those poor nurses.

* * *

**AN: **So here you go! Sorry for the long wait, but I hope it was worth it ; )

Next chapter - Twilight Zone


	14. Chapter 13 Twilight Zone

Chapter 13 – Twilight Zone

I survived the hospital. I survived yet another day of being cooped up with Ian with the additional irritation of him nearly smothering me with his post-accident anxiety. I even survived my first day of school, in which everyone wanted to talk to me, their new celebrity.

I was not going to survive, however, my Twilight Zone experience.

At the hospital, they checked me over and did their anti-hypothermia procedures and told me that I had to stay overnight for observation but that I would most likely be able to go home the next day. I held on to that promise through Ian's panicky arrival and subsequent hovering. I held on to that promise through my mother's phone call as she demanded that I return home. I held on to that promise when Emilee dropped by to give me my purse that I had luckily left in her car as she made some inane comments about how it had actually been safer for me if I had gone up the hill with her.

The promise was not enough, however, when the young and handsome and exceptionally nice Dr. Cullen, whom I had now met for the first time, came by to check on me and informed me that Evan Keegan was well enough to go home.

I was furthermore disturbed when talking with Regan, who called to interview about the accident (surprise, surprise), to find out that only two other people remembered the event the same way I did and they had been on the far side of the parking lot quite preoccupied with building a Calvin and Hobbes style snowman.

There had to be more people who saw what I saw.

However, on Monday when I talked to everyone who I knew had been there, they all recited the same story. They even believed that our fall over the railing had been more of a tumble than a plummet and that the ice cracked beneath us, not that we crashed our way through it. Even when I talked to Alan and Lexie Peterson, the two sophomores who had originally agreed with me, I was told the same wrong story.

What was the most confusing and bizarre part of the whole experience was that Regan showed uncharacteristic lack of curiosity at this discrepancy. She recited some psycho-babble at me about how the adrenaline from my intense near death experience must have interfered with my memory causing me to not remember correctly the insignificant details. This still makes no sense to me. Shouldn't a near death experience adrenaline rush heighten one's senses producing a crystallized perception of the event, in which one notices every single detail?

I wanted to talk to Evan Keegan about what I saw and ask him my questions, but he seemed to be avoiding me all day. Every time I approached him, he would turn the other way and vanish around a corner, and when I thought I could corner him in French class, we had another pop quiz.

Well, he won't escape from me tomorrow. I can guarantee that because I refuse to spend one more night questioning my sanity.

* * *

"So, what is your version of the events on Saturday?" was my opening question. I'd make a terrible lawyer.

Nevertheless, he went very still before cautiously asking, "What do you mean?"

I shrugged trying to appear nonchalant, "Oh, it just seems that everyone remembers it differently than I do."

"What exactly do you remember?"

I knew then that I was not going to get a straight answer before I let on why it was important to me so I told him. "I remember staring at you while you were standing by your truck a dozen yards away. I remember seeing your reaction as the log came at me, Dani, and Maggie. I remember shoving them out of the way but not being able to make it myself. I remember being hit by you instead of the log, going over the railing, breaking through the ice, being held by you as the current dragged us…" I was beginning to hyperventilate so I stopped and took a deep breath before accusing him, "and watching you punch through the ice with your bare hand. How is your hand, by the way?" I eyed it suspiciously. It was not bandaged at all. In fact there were no signs that he even broke skin while doing this impossible feat.

"It's fine," he dismissed, "but you're not. Did Carlisle check to see if any damage was done to your head?"

"What? Who? What the hell are you talking about? My head is fine!" I exclaimed, completely nonplussed at his response.

"Carlisle… you know, Dr. Cullen? He said that he was going to check in on you for me, but obviously he didn't know you hit your head. And you must have because that's not what happened. I was on your side of the road, not by my truck, thus allowing me to save you, and my hand is fine. The ice was not thick enough to do any damage, which was why it broke beneath our weight when we landed on it."

"I did not hit my head," I insisted firmly, "and you were by the truck."

"Then how else am I to explain your misconception of what occurred?" He questioned, ignoring my second statement. "Maybe your memory became distorted by your body's reaction to the shock of the freezing water?"

"Why must it be that my memory is wrong? Why can't it be everyone else's?" I really was sick of everyone's psycho-babble.

He just stared at me with his now butterscotch-colored eyes, waiting for me to cave and accept his version of the accident. He seemed apprehensive about it.

It dawned on me then. It was _his _version. Everything that he had been saying was the exact same thing everyone else had been reciting when I talked to them. Even the non-sense about my brain chemistry affecting my memory was eerily similar to what Regan had said the day before.

How had he done it though? Had he hypnotized everyone, creating a mass hallucination?

I then recalled his intense focus on group after group while we waited for the paramedics in his truck. Could he have done it then?

I nearly scoffed at this idea. It was too sci-fi. However, how else was I to explain that everyone had the same version of the accident? Usually, when something this dramatic happens in this town, it becomes even more so with the re-telling of it, but in this case, it was disturbingly consistent.

I stared at him with my mouth open for an inordinate amount of time, not realizing it until he began to shift in his chair uncomfortably. I then readjusted my chair to face forward. I couldn't look at him.

Evan Keegan had saved my life.

Evan Keegan had punched through ice with no damage to his hand.

Evan Keegan had been in the freezing river as long as I had but had suffered no side-effects.

Evan Keegan had somehow convinced everyone that they saw his version of the events, a version that plausibly made more sense than mine but was wrong.

Evan Keegan had somehow convinced my inquisitive friend that I was wrong and having memory problems.

Evan Keegan was lying to my face.

And I couldn't even call him out on any of it without him accusing me of being mentally deranged.

I turned back to him, tears pouring down my face from my frustration, and hissed, "You know, all day yesterday and even today I wanted to thank you for saving my life and maybe hear the truth from you so that I would know that I wasn't alone." I paused to wipe my face with my sleeve. "So thank you for saving my life, but for your information, I don't appreciate being lied to and made out as being off-my-rocker, Mr. Keegan." With that, I faced forward again and expunged any warm feelings that I may have developed towards the Irish boy.

* * *

Carlisle met me at the hospital and dismissed the paramedics and nurses promising them that he would look me over and keep close watch on me. It had taken every ounce of my skill to help them accept the idea that I did not need medical attention and that it was not abnormal. It would have been very bad, if the EMT had tried to put an IV into my arm.

When we got into his office, he handed me some clothes to change into and calmly asked, "What happened?"

So I told him, filling in the gaps that Nessie and Jacob would not have known since they had been on the other side of my truck.

"Were you seen?" he asked referring to my supersonic speedy tackle of the girl.

I shook my head, "Even if I was, I was able to place new and more believable more memories into just about everyone there. And I plan to finish that task as soon as you can let me leave here." I looked at him expectantly wondering what he would suggest as an appropriate time frame. After all, he had more experience than I did at playing human.

He remained silent for a little while thinking, and then said, "Stay here for a few more hours. We don't want to leave anyone with the impression that you were entirely unaffected, and then go home and get Edward to help you."

I nodded my assent before lying down on his couch throwing the afghan over me in order to maintain the ruse that I was slightly affected by my adventure.

"Carlisle?" I called to him as he was leaving his office.

"Yes, Evan?"

"Can you check on the girl?"

He simply nodded, and with a kind and sympathetic look in his eye, returned to his rounds.

* * *

With Edwards help, I was able to find all of those I had missed and finish what I had started. He tried to accuse me of being reckless and relying too much on my gift, but I cut him off with a reminder of him doing the very same stunt not too long ago without the added benefit of my gift to do damage control. This mercifully shut him up until he reminded me that I still had the Darby girl to worry about.

So I watched her all Monday. What I saw and heard scared me a little. She seemed to be unable to accept my version and now everyone else's version, and apparently, she and two others, whom I didn't get to until early Sunday morning before I went hunting, had talked to the reporter girl during the weekend.

When I overheard their conversation in chemistry, I quickly went to work on suggesting probable reasons for the discrepancies in the stories. Her logical mind accepted them, much to the disappointment of Ms. Darby.

It hurt me that I had to cause her unhappiness, but I had to if I was to keep her safe from Jasper, who wasn't about to let anything possibly endanger Alice or from Rosalie, who desperately wanted to not have to move for a long time now that Nessie was no longer exponentially aging and seemed to have stabilized.

I stuck with the plan, but it seemed as if I was no closer to accomplishing my goal than before. In fact, while it seemed as if I had convinced her to drop the subject of the accident, she appeared to have discovered something upsetting about me, if one judged by her expression. Whatever it was, she was not going to tell me. My actions appeared to have permanently alienated her from me. Although I knew this to be for her own good and for the good of my new family, I wished it could have been otherwise.

* * *

**AN: **Good? Bad?

Fictional cookies for constuctive comments ; )


	15. Chapter 14 Visitors and Accidents

Chapter 14 – Visitors and Accidents

I endured the rest of the week as best I could. Aaron profusely and repeatedly apologized for his part in the accident. I could tell he was sincere in his apologies because he was not his normal smooth self, but it irritated me that he did not do the same for Dani and Maggie. Those two also kept repeatedly thanking me for pushing them into action; so in order to get them to stop, I made them promise to do me a favor sometime. I have no idea what, but this agreement bought me some peace.

French class was a trial. All we did was go through the motions of conversing. I don't understand either him or me really. He has only done two things since I came here; either he has ignored me or he has insulted me. Well, he has also saved my life, but that can be chalked up to an aberration from his normal behavior.

I, on the other hand, have vacillated between being completely fascinated by him and being thoroughly ticked off at him. Even now, while I harbor a grievance against him, I am continually in awe of his beauty, sneaking peaks at him from the corners of my eyes or from under my eyelashes.

I am also unable to quench my curiosity concerning him and his family. I wanted to ask him about one instance in particular but dared not cross our invisible barrier. On Thursday we had a lab in chemistry, which to no one's surprise resulted in Jeffrey causing an accident. (He had placed the beaker over the Bunsen burner while I wasn't looking and it had exploded causing shards of glass to fly everywhere. I had goggles on so my eyes were protected but my face received some blood-drawing scratches). However, while this was going on, a fight broke out between the Keegan boy and Jasper Hale; at least when I looked over to see what the commotion was the two of them were in each others' faces and glaring. It was rather frightening. The whole room was holding its breath watching them until they took it outside. I watched them at lunch surreptitiously and noticed that they were sitting at opposite ends of their family's table instead of right next to each other like they normally do. The whole family seemed to be uncomfortable with the situation too.

But why does this matter? Why do I feel a pang of sympathy for his estranged relationship? Why can I not stop thinking about him when it is clearly obvious that he thinks so little of me?

I don't know.

I hate not knowing. I hate being in emotional turmoil for no logical reason. I like logic. I like things making sense. Everything has an explanation. Everything but him.

It is now day thirteen since the accident. My dreams have been filled with rabbit holes filled with dark frigid water, broken by flashes of white, and occasionally ending with a pair of coal black eyes surrounded by sooty eyelashes that look at me with disdain. As I reluctantly walk towards French class, I pray that my mom does not call me this weekend because then I might cave in and give up on my experiment, which I really do want to work more than anything. I'm just at a really weak moment.

"Cadie!" Two high-pitched voices call to me from across the quad area that is in between the school's buildings.

My head whipped up so fast that I nearly made myself dizzy with the motion, but sure enough it was my two kids.

"Lottie! Simon!" I greeted them as I sank to my knees in the half-melted snow to give them a hug. They plowed into me, burrowing down as close as they could get. After that all I could do was hold onto them with all I had and rock them back and forth, kissing the tops of their heads over and over again and trying not to sob in my relief in finally getting to see them.

I looked up to see Tyrone walking towards us. I mouthed thank you at him before I began to peel the little munchkins away from me so that I could see their faces. They were so happy and content with their big gape-toothed smiles that my heart warmed to nearly bursting.

"We were in the area so I decided to stop by and let them say hi." Their dad explained as he knelt down to pick up one of the books I had dropped in my eagerness to embrace them.

"Yeah, we're moving!" Little Simon excitedly informed me.

"Oh? Is that so?" I looked at him and Lottie to gauge their reaction about this unexpected move on their father's part.

Lottie nodded and solemnly reported, "Papa got a new job, so we're moving."

"Well, that's cool!" They nodded their heads simultaneously before trying to out do each other in describing their new digs.

"Whoa, whoa, hold on. Let me go and get excused from my last two classes and then you can tell me all about it at my new house. Okay?"

"We get to see your room?" Lottie asked in awe. I had to described it to her in one of our phone conversations, and she had become fixated on it ever since. I nodded and then got up and went to the Torture Chamber.

I had somehow gotten on the good side of Mrs. Tyler, when I accidentally intimated that I would help her set up her younger sister (age 47) with Ian. I comforted myself with the fact that I had not agreed to set him up with her. Ian would have shipped me back to Quebec in an overnight package had I made that mistake.

Once I thoroughly abused my relationship with my match-making partner and was officially excused from my dreaded last two classes of the week, I signaled Tyrone to follow me and got in my car as fast as I could. I would have had the kids ride in the Hearse, but it would have taken too long to set up the car seats.

At home I was reminded at how good Ian was with little kids, as he gave them a tour of our home and what used to be only my summer residence. While the kids were entertained with the wooden toy cars and trains that Ian had gotten out for them to play with in the den, Tyrone explained to Ian and me the reasoning behind his accepting the new job.

"I loved my old job tremendously, so much so that I lost my wife and kids, and then I lost my kids to my wife, never noticing that she wasn't able to handle them on her own." He stopped to look out the window for a minute while we sipped our coffee waiting patiently for him to continue. "Now that I have the kids, I needed to find something that was going to employ my services for years to come so that they could stay in one school and have the same friends and I could have more consistent hours. This job opened up in that city that they have begun constructing a dam for. One of the engineers had to quit for health reasons, and I heard about it through a friend from college. The good news is that once the dam is done, a whole lot of businesses in the computer and internet industry are looking to set up shop there because they will be able to tap into the hydro-electric power that will be produced, so I'll be gainfully employed for a long time. That's at least what the market is predicting."

"That's great, Ty. Do you have an apartment that you are ready to move into or is it a house?"

"An apartment for now, but there are some quality homes in the same district that I'm looking at." This set off a discussion between Ian and him about real estate, home restoration, and similar topics that held little interest for me, especially in the presence of the two cherubs on the floor, so I got down on my stomach and joined in their thrilling cops-and-robbers car chase.

They stayed the rest of the evening until the kids started getting cranky, suggesting that it was bed time. We offered them the guest room, but Tyrone said that he had already booked a room at the local bed-and-breakfast, since they had to get an early start in the morning. We said our tearful good-byes, but I was happy for them, secure in the knowledge that they would be safe and cared for by a devoted father. Not many kids now days have that opportunity.

Despite the fact that I knew I wasn't going to see them for a very long time, I was grateful for their visit. It was a godsend because now if my mother called me, I knew I could be strong enough to stay the course. No stupid boy, no matter how ridiculously good looking, was going to affect me so much that I abandoned my plan. I was stronger than that.

* * *

Edward was right. Keeping these frail humans alive was a nigh impossible task, especially her. It seemed as if the very boys who were tripping over themselves in their admiration of her were also determined to bring about her death. If it wasn't the self-loving sledding idiots, it was that fool of a lab partner, Toombs.

The boy probably couldn't even follow a simple cookie recipe. I didn't see him put the beaker over the open flame, but I sure heard and smelt the effects of it. Someone screamed a warning just as it exploded sending shards of glass in all directions. Some of them hitting Cadie, who had been unable to duck in time, and drawing blood.

It not only made my throat burn, but apparently Jasper's as well. I could feel him stiffen and when I looked at him he was getting ready to launch himself across the room at her. I grabbed his arm with my right hand and sucker punched his stomach with my left; the resulting sound was masked by the crashing of the tray of beakers that this little maneuver of mine caused. We stood there staring at each other for what seemed like an eternity, with me holding his arm in one hand and his shirt front in the other, willing him with all my powers to resist his most basic instincts. I managed to convince him to go outside, only when I had the brilliant idea to remind him of Alice that she would be worried about him.

Sure enough, she and Edward were waiting for us outside the classroom. I gratefully handed him over to her care, and sank to the ground breathing in deep lungfuls of fresh air.

"Are you going to make it?" Edward asked me.

I nodded, "But I think I'll wait out here until after class before I go back in to make our excuses."

"Just to be safe, why don't you go sit in my car and listen to some music. Then next period you can go in and do that." He suggested while handing me his keys.

I took them and mumbled my thanks as I took off for the parking lot, trying to keep my pace at human speed.

At lunch, Jasper chose to sit on the other side of Edward and Bella, so Alice followed suit, leaving me with an empty space next to me. I didn't feel hurt by this. I understood that Jasper felt ashamed of his nearly losing control, especially since although I'm new to the family, I have more control than he does. He forgets, however, that I am not new to the "vegetarian" lifestyle. I had been practicing it for most of my immortal life.

I casually glanced over to look at Cadie to reassure myself that she was alright. She seemed to be fine, brushing off everyone's concern for her injuries and defending her lab partner's inadequacies. I nearly growled at the girl's forgiving spirit. She must have a death wish, if she was going to insist on standing by him. This thought made me recall her inexplicable smile before she was to be crushed by the log of doom. I decided then and there that she needed constant surveillance if she was going to make it even to spring break. I'd also keep my eye on Max as he was the only other one of her admirers who had yet become an instrument of her near death.

In French class, my mood concerning her lightened slightly as I watched her watch me. She kept shifting in her chair as if she was going to lean over and ask me something but then she would change her mind and shift back again. She would let her hair fall as a curtain over her shoulder blocking her view of me, but then after she fidgeted a little and probably bit her lip a lot, she would tuck it behind her ear and flip it back over her shoulder giving her the chance to sneak a peak at me. I guessed that she wanted to ask me about my altercation with Jasper, but I didn't have a story ready to tell her so I maintained the status quo and kept it strictly business. If she asked me about it tomorrow, though, I would be ready for her.

However, the story that I concocted for her benefit was unnecessary, since she didn't show up to her afternoon classes on Friday. She received visitors and took off with them. They must have been important to her if she braved an extended encounter with Mrs. Tyler and if one judged by her intense reaction upon seeing them. I did not like the way the father had been looking at her, so as soon as I got home, I hopped in my truck and took off for her house.

When I neared my destination, I parked about a mile and a half down the road and ran the rest of the way through the cover of the forest. As I climbed a tree that gave me an advantageous viewpoint through both the kitchen and den windows, I could hear her and the children's laughter. She had the most captivating laugh. It was not bell-like, tinkling, breathy, or hearty, but it did have a unique cadence. I would not be surprised to learn that the reason for her name was because of it.

When they left, I was torn between staying and watching her sleep through her window or returning home, but I knew that I needed to go. I had promised Alice that I would try again to talk to Jasper. He still seemed upset about yesterday's incident. I loved the guy like a brother, but he held himself to Edward's standard, the one who has more self-control than Carlisle if that can even be imagined. Who wouldn't fail in comparison?

This thought brought me up short. I too had been comparing myself to Edward. Except in my case, I had been comparing his and Bella's situation, with mine and Cadie's, and I had been thinking that I was doing better than Edward. I had not given away our family secret. I had kept my distance.

But had I really? Had I not just considered the thought of being a peeping Tom, just like Edward? Had I not nearly exposed the family in order to save a mere human's life? Had I not vowed to engage in an epic battle with Death itself for her sake?

"Merde."

* * *

**AN: **Next chapter will be coming soon. It might even be two again. ; )


	16. Chapter 15 The Hearse

Chapter 15 – The Hearse

I pulled out of the school parking lot on Wednesday as excited as a little kid on Christmas morning. I chanted over and over in my head: _They are here, they are finally here_, as I made my way to Old Tink's shop.

I laughed softly to myself when I pulled in front of the mechanic's shop. The sign was supposed to read: Harry's Tinker Shop, but the shop part of the sign was missing. I poked my head in the lobby but no one is in there so I hopped, skipped, and bounced my way to the garage. I saw two guys working on an old truck and feet sticking out from under a late model but still more recent car.

I tapped the bottom of the feet and waited for him to scoot out and take off his headphones before saying, "So Zach, what's with the sign?"

He smiled real big upon seeing me and then got up to grab a rag to wipe his hands, while shrugging sheepishly, "You saw that, huh? Well, someone kept stealing that part of the sign every time the old man replaced it, so he decided to just leave it." He shrugged again, "So what brings you to these parts? The Hearse hasn't broken down on you; it's got a guarantee." He slyly added that last part fishing for compliments.

I was too impatient to indulge him, so all I said was, "Nope, it's fine, of course. And no, Ian called to tell me that they are here." At this, I began stepping on my tip toes to look around trying to find my glorious paint cans.

"Yeah, they're here, but I'm not allowed to let you get your paws on them until you pay up _and_ I've finished with Mr. Henderson's car. That way, I don't screw anything up while you distract me."

"Well, you get crackin' then and I'll wait in the office for the front desk person to show up," I replied with my continued school girl eagerness.

Zach looked as if he was going to say something, shook his head, and then called over his shoulder, "Hey Jacob can you ring up her order for me, please? I got to finish this by five or the boss man is going to have my head!"

When I looked over to see who he was hollering at, some of my euphoria dissipated. It was the Mutt from the accident. Shaking my head in self-derision, I smiled at him as he opened the door for me back into the lobby, "So your name is Jacob."

He smiled and said, "Yep, that's right we were never formally introduced. I'm Jacob Black and you are…"

I held out my hand, "Cadie Darby." We shook hands. He had a firm grip but abnormally warm hands. Maybe it was from working on the truck's engine?

"So here's the check. It should cover all of the bill."

"It does, to the penny." I nodded in satisfaction, while biting my lip trying to suppress my anxiety about the potentially awkward conversation that could develop.

But he surprised me by asking not about the incident or Evan but rather about my painting project, (which would make more sense, since that was the reason I was here in the first place). "Have you ever had experience painting a car before?"

"Some. I did some touch up jobs for Old Tink for the go-cart race when I was here last, and then I did full-out job on my friend's VW van that he was using for his band. It didn't turn out too bad, if I do say so myself." I looked at him cheekily before going to peer through the door's window to check on Zach's progress.

It was going to be awhile, so to pass the time, I turned and asked him, "How do you know Evan Keegan? I assume you are the friend he was picking up from the airport about a month ago."

He finished doing his data entry into the computer and handed me the receipt while answering, "Yeah, that was me. I was actually a friend of Bella's and Nessie's first before I met Evan. He's an alright guy. Look, if you want to bring your car around to the back and start getting set up, I'm sure Zach will be done with his current job by then."

I hurriedly thanked him and dashed out to do exactly that. I wasn't actually going to begin painting today. No, that magnificent task was reserved for next week. Instead I was just going to prep the car, sanding it down and mapping out how the patterns were going to be for each section of the car. It was going to be awesome.

That's what I did all spring break. I painted, barely sleeping or eating. I took over the Tinker Shop's back garage and only went home while the paint dried. I turned down Emilee's invitation to go shopping in the city, which was something I probably should have done not only for my wardrobe's sake but also for the sake of our developing friendship. But I was in my crazed mode wanting desperately for my project to be done by the end of the week.

I wasn't a total recluse. I hung out with Zach quite a bit. I had forgotten how much he could make me laugh. His sarcasm and mimicry were spot on. He somehow, despite having a naturally deep voice, can do an impression of Mrs. Tyler. It's downright creepy. I also met some of his friends. They like to come by the shop and hang out and occasionally help out. Old Tink is a softy beneath his gruff exterior and always has food on hand for them, although he grumbles under his breath about them costing him a fortune.

Ian came over on the last day and brought a literal feast to celebrate, claiming that this was the only chance he was going to get to see me because when I was not at school or doing homework this coming week I was going to be sleeping to make up for all that I had not done this week. He was probably right. But it was so worth it.

* * *

At the realization that I was beginning to become obsessed with the girl, I forced myself to back off. I didn't even swing by the town's local garage, even when Jacob reported that she would be there all week working on her car among heavy machinery and amateur teens. A potentially deadly combination for her. I instead immersed myself in all the projects that I had been putting off ever since her arrival. This worked some, and it would have worked better if Jacob hadn't refused to tell me what it was that she was exactly doing. I, therefore, experienced frequent intrusive thoughts concerning the possibilities.

I also experienced pangs of jealousy. I had to admit even if it was only to myself that I was jealous of Jacob that he got to spend time with her and interact with her, free of any of the consequences that I would have experienced if I had pursued a friendship with her. I never before understood why Edward had been jealous of Jacob when Bella had been human; after all she only had eyes for him. Although I did not love this frail creature, nor did I want her to love me, I envied the ease with which he could move between her world and mine.

I have reached a new low. I am jealous of a stinking dog. _Edward, don't you dare tell Emmett._ If Emmett did learn of this, I would never hear the end of it.

On Monday morning my curiosity was satiated and my admiration for her grew. She had painted her car, and not just simply one color or even two. No, it had at least a dozen different hues. The background was metallic black. The front began in purple flames, and the sides gradually changed to blue of at least 3 different shades to green and then to a little bit of yellow. The hood and the roof of the car, however, went from purple to blue to red and orange and yellow, which then faded to silvery white. They weren't simple flames either. No, intermixed within the flames were symbols. On the hood of the car, the flames formed a tree, which distinctively looked like a Rowan tree, and on the roof, there was a flaming crescent moon and a starry landscape. Along the sides of the car, the flames formed roses in various stages, skulls, Celtic crosses, and words like love, peace, and hope. On the back of the car above the license plate was a pair of yellow eyes that were disturbingly familiar. It was not just the flames that formed images, but the black sections between the flames were shaped into various musical notes.

Although it was not quite on par with a professional's work, it was damn near close to it. It was complex, intricate, and exquisite. It was Her.

Resistance is futile, you are doomed, and many other such sentiments kept playing through my head, but I willed them to go away. I had made a decision, and I was going to stick to it.

And I did. I stayed away. Even on the day of the next scheduled lab. It was a good thing too, because as Jasper described it, her lab partner somehow created a solution that emitted gaseous fumes, which she just happened to be allergic to causing her throat to close up. Later that night, Carlisle casually informed me that she was alright, only that her voice would be hoarse for awhile. This made it even more possible for me to keep my distance in French class since she was unable to talk above a mere whisper.

I stayed away even when Nessie wanted me to accompany her inside to visit with Jacob while he worked, choosing to remain in my truck when I saw her car parked out in front.

I stayed away for a whole month. It never got any easier. In fact, it increased my awareness of her and her importance to me. But I'm a stubborn Irish lad and I knew that family and principles came first. Edward and Bella's happy life is a rare and beautiful thing, and I was never destined for such. I was lucky to have found a place in a family that was willing to accept me and support me as they had. I could not jeopardize that for something that can never be.

So I stayed away and endured.

* * *

"So this is the mystery project you ditched me for last week?" Emilee asked me sounding both impressed and miffed.

"Yeah, I've been wanting to work on it ever since I first saw it and didn't have a chance until last week. I see your shopping trip was productive." I said this as I looked over her new chic jacket that she was sporting today.

"It _so_ was. You should come next time. I can find you some really good deals." I took this magnanimous reply to mean that I had been forgiven. We parted after this exchange. I went to pre-calculus, and she went to history.

I spent the whole week being thoroughly amused by people's reactions to the Hearse's custom paint job. I was unsurprised by any of them. Regan and Maggie loved it. Dani and Jeffrey immediately wanted to know what technique and tools I used. Tiffany and Genevieve looked at me as if I was from another world, not understanding how I could give up a shopping trip for my secondhand car. Max was slightly disturbed by the images but did his best to hide it by being overenthusiastic about my "talent," and anyone above the age of 39 looked askance at it. The town's mother hens were clucking their disapproval when I pulled into the gas station or grocery store, grabbing their children's hands to pull them closer when I passed by, making me chuckle evilly, which only added to their impression that I was a troubled individual.

This impression was also furthered by the results of Jeffrey's latest lab catastrophe. I am not sure what he added while I was answering some procedural question of Regan's, but whatever he did caused our beaker to emit gaseous fumes. Mr. Hoffman was able to get it under the fume hood before it did too much damage, but I had unavoidably inhaled some of it.

It was almost worse than when I had been sucked under the ice. As I felt my throat begin to close and my vision begin to go blurry, I looked around to see where Evan was, strangely devastated that he was not there to save me. This time I was not ready to die. This death was a pointless stupid death that would scar happy-go-lucky, fool-of-a-Toombs Jeffrey for life making him a drunken guilty sot. I wanted to live. I wanted to breathe!

This time I appreciated the sight of the paramedics, even though I had to make yet another humiliating trip to the hospital, go through the ordeal of a panicky Ian, and be poked and prodded by more people than I could count. Fortunately though, Ian learned his lesson from last time and did not call Gabby, so I didn't have to deal with her pleas to return home. I didn't have the vocal strength to firmly reassure her that I was fine. I sounded like a fire victim, all breathy, hoarse, and scratchy.

When I got home from the hospital, I was met with the sight of Old Tink and Zach. They had brought over some soft foods for me to eat and the family's special tea that was sure to help soothe my throat and make it better than new.

I smiled my thanks and then decided to humor them by drinking their tea before I went up to bed. It wasn't too bad, but in order to have the best results I couldn't add any sweetener, not even honey. While I finished that, Ian recalled that there was a game scheduled to be on that he wanted to watch so he and Old Tink wandered into the den.

"Sorry, about all this. I'm sure, you just want to go to bed and sleep, but I thought it would make it easier for you if we distracted Ian."

I smiled my gratitude and rolled my eyes, agreeing with his assessment of the situation. The phone rang then, and I indicated that he could go ahead and pick it up.

"Hello, this is Zach speaking for the Darby's. How may I help you?" My laughter at his practiced professional voice turned into a coughing fit, which blocked out the rest of the conversation.

"Are you alright?" Zach asked me as soon as he hung up. I waved dismissively at him and Ian, who was standing at the door, that I was okay, wiped the tears that were streaming down my face with a napkin, and gestured at the phone.

Zach caught on, "Oh, it must have been a wrong number. They didn't say anything for awhile and then just hung up. It was weird."

"Weird's right. That has happened to me a couple of times this week." Ian stated, his brow puckering in thought.

I shrugged, past caring.

Zach took my finished cup and said, "I'll wash this; you go on up to bed, _mon amie_."

I pecked his cheek in gratitude and made my way upstairs, exhausted. I hate hospitals.

* * *

**AN: **French translation - _mon amie = _my friend

As promised, 2 chapters...Yay! for procrastination!


	17. Chapter 16 Warnings

Chapter 16 - Warnings

I decided to take Zach up on his invite to hang out with him and his friends after school sometime, especially, since he put up with Ian the other night for my sake. When I walked in, he was sitting behind the wheel of an old convertible and Jacob was yelling at him to turn the engine off. It was making the most hideous of noises.

"Hey Cadie," Zach called out, relieved.

I waved at him and nodded at Jacob, who nodded back, as I walked up and looked over the car. It was in mint condition except for whatever was the matter with the engine. "Whose car is this?"

"The mayor's," Zach replied sounding aggrieved. "He keeps us busy with his most prized possession. I wouldn't be surprised if he called it his 'precious' as he strokes it at night after his wife goes to bed."

I snorted at that. I'd heard stories of the man's obsessive tendencies so I wouldn't be surprised if Zach was right.

He was in the middle of explaining what was wrong with the car while Jacob had gone to get whatever dew-dad they needed, when she walked in.

I had seen her before at the river, but I had kinda been out of it at the time, which was not the case now; and apparently she had been here before, but I had been in the break room making everyone a decent pot of coffee and missed her. She was a little taller than me, had curly bronzed colored hair, deep brown eyes, and rosy cheeks. She was beautiful. She danced her way over to Jacob, with an unnatural grace just like the rest of her family, to give him a hug. As I watched her I couldn't help but think that she looked more like Edward Cullen than Bella Scott, who I had been told was her real sister.

Jacob confirmed that when he walked back over and introduced her, "Cadie, this is Nessie Scott. Nessie, this is Cadie Darby."

I blushed a little as I recalled the circumstances under which we had first met, but still said "Pleasure," as I shook her cold hand.

"Likewise," she said after she let go of my hand and then looked at Jacob and nodded her head.

My head started to pound then, so I excused myself to go back out to my car and get some aspirin. It didn't hurt too badly, so I decided to stay a little longer since I wanted to say hi to Morgan who was supposed to be coming in soon. One could set their watch by his raids into the shop's kitchen.

He must have snuck in while I was rummaging around for the pill bottle because when I returned to the garage he greeted me with, "Hey Cadie, what are you doing this weekend?"

"Not much. Laundry, maybe. Why?"

"Well, my older brothers and their friends are in town this week and before they go back they wanted to go hiking up in the Crags. They said I could invite whoever, and Zach here said you liked that kind of thing. So you wanna come?"

Gee, go hiking and rock climbing with a bunch of guys, who if they were anything like this kid would be cool and a lot of fun, or stay in town and be sucked into wedding plans as Ronnie was going to be in town starting that weekend as well? "Love to," was my simple yet eager reply.

"Great! We'll come by and pick you up about 4 o'clock. Bring a sleeping bag and a good pair of shoes and we'll take care of the food and stuff."

As I was nodding my agreement, Zach leaned over and whispered, "You know, you can't hide from her forever."

"I can try though, can't I?" I muttered back.

I said my goodbyes then. If I was not going to be home this weekend, I had better get started on that laundry.

The phone was ringing when I walked in the door. I managed to pick it up before it went to voicemail. "Hello?" I asked since no one was identifying themselves.

No answer. There was just the slight sound of breathing.

"Hello? This is Cadie Darby, but who are you?" The breathing got heavier then.

I waited for a little bit, growing uneasy as the seconds ticked by and then whoever it was hung up. I looked at the phone, punched in the necessary number to find out who it was that called, only to discover it was a blocked number. Figures. Ominous chills went up and down my spine, so I went and locked the front door and checked all the locks on the other doors and windows before going about my business. I wasn't too worried though since Ian was in his workshop not fifty yards away, and it really seemed unlikely that anything crazy like one sees in movies could happen in this little town, whose crime rate consisted of petty thefts like sign stealing.

_Harry's Tinker._ I chuckled a little as I made my way upstairs. The fact that this still amuses me to know end is a little disturbing. I mean, how juvenile can I get?

* * *

I was in the middle of trying to figure out the best place for the water heater to go for Esme's greenhouse, when Nessie sauntered in.

"Yes?" I prodded.

"Oh, I thought you should know that I finally formally met Ms. Darby."

"That's great," I said hesitantly, confused as to why she felt the need to tell me this.

"I can get through her mental barrier, but you're right she is different. It took a lot of effort, like I was pushing through viscous fluid that was nearly solid just to put the simple image in her mind of me taking off her waterlogged shoes." _Now that was interesting_. "She felt it too. She had to go and take some pain medicine for a sudden headache."

"She didn't connect the fact that you had just touched her, did she?" I asked somewhat alarmed.

"No, I don't think so, but I don't think I should try it again. Although, I was tempted to, when she agreed to go hiking up in the Crags this weekend with Zach and his friends. I know how worried you get about her." She looked at me apologetically.

I reassured her that she did the right thing. No need to risk discovery.

After Nessie left, I mentally began planning away to persuade her against going. So many things could go wrong, and I couldn't be there to save her if something were to happen. It would look extremely suspicious if I showed up out of the blue to rescue her once again, almost stalker-ish to say the least.

Maybe I could use my I.O.U. for saving her life. It didn't know if it would work, but it was the only thing I had, and I couldn't let her go. I couldn't. Not only was she accident-prone, but she seemed marked by fate as well. It would be just her luck that a pack of rabid wolves would be in the area, or worse – someone like me.

* * *

I nearly died of a heart attack as I turned around from getting my book bag out of the back of the car when I collided with someone's chest. It hadn't just been _anyone's_ chest, but Evan's perfectly sculpted one that filled out his ivory turtleneck fantastically.

"Can I talk to you?" he asked me rather impatiently.

I checked my watch. I had gotten here earlier than normal thanks to the sunny skies of the past few days, which dried the roads, "Yeah, sure, I've got time." I leaned up against my car and crossed my arms, in an attempt to hide my curiosity.

He ran his hands through his curls and then focused his overwhelmingly intense gaze on me, "I want you to do me a favor. I want you to not go to the Crags this weekend."

I almost said yes because his warm golden eyes seemed to suggest that his heart would break if I said no, but I somehow croaked out, "Why?" I wanted to say _why should I do you a favor and why are you so concerned about my weekend plans when you haven't even really talked to me in over a month?_

He must have understood both of the implied questions because he blurted, "Because I can't be there to save you and because I saved you once before."

"Why do I need saving?" I was getting ticked off now. I'm not some helpless damsel-in-distress.

He looked at me astounded, "Why? Why do you need saving? I don't know, but how many times have you needed to go to the hospital in the last month? You seem to always need rescuing. Things just happen around you. So could you please do yourself and me a favor and not do something that increases your chances of an early death?"

I tried to placate him because his intensity was beginning to scare me, "I like to go hiking and rock climbing. I've done it before, even in this area, and nothing bad has ever happened. I know how to be safe, and the guys I'm going with are experienced as well. I'll be fine."

"That's not good enough," he bit out, glaring at me, angered at my refusal to bend to his will.

"You really like having your way, don't you?"

"Who doesn't?" he replied a little thrown off by my turn of the conversation. Good.

"Well, too bad. It will do you some good, I expect, to not get it every once in awhile."

"Is that your way of telling me that you're still going?"

"Yes," was my irritated answer as I attempted to make my way past him.

I almost made it, but he gently grabbed my arm and hauled me back in front of him, simply saying, "Please?"

Sure, now he uses his magic words. I wanted to roll my eyes, but instead met his forceful gaze head on and challenged, "Why does my safety matter to you? You've never wanted to be my friend before."

"Not wanting to be your friend and choosing not to be are two different things," he bit out hastily.

More confused than ever, I pressed, "What the _hell_ does that mean? "

"It means that I want you to be safe," and with that frustrating reply, he turned away angrily and headed to the office.

I stood there with my mouth hanging open looking after him, only moving when the bell rang. Cursing him and his cryptic answers, I raced to class.

I was still cursing him when I got home, infuriated that his paranoia was ruining my excitement for this trip. Stupid male chauvinist was the tamest of names that I aimed in his general direction.

As I was gathering my stuff together in preparation for my 4 o'clock pick up, the phone rang.

I picked it up, "Hello, Darby residence." Silence, except for breathing.

"Look, this joke is getting old – "

"It's not a joke, Cadence. I mean business." A harsh raspy voice hissed. I couldn't tell if it was a man or woman's; the connection was too garbled.

"So state your business then," I challenged. I was sick of being harassed by people who refused to explain themselves.

"I'm coming for you."

* * *

**AN: **Ominous drum roll please ; )

Next chapter - The Light at the End of the Tunnel


	18. Ch 17 The Light at the End of the Tunnel

Chapter 17 – The Light at the End of the Tunnel

I stood there frozen staring at the phone, unsure of whether to laugh or cry. I wanted to laugh because, well really, that was the most stereotypical creeper call. Puh-lease! I wanted to cry because, well, a girl can only take so much.

I cursed instead. I continued to rain down on Evan Keegan's head hellfire and damnation. I shouldn't go on this trip because accidents seem to happen wherever I am. I shouldn't go have fun because I always needed rescuing. I had to limit my life because he couldn't be there to rescue me. Where the hell was he when I got a creeper call like the one I had just experienced?

If I was to follow his egotistical logic, then maybe I should let him lock me away in a padded room where he could watch over me because that was the only way he could really come close to keeping me safe. Life happens, and I'm going to go live my life to the freaking fullest and screw Mr. Be Safe and Mr./Ms. Creepy Voice!

I grabbed my bags and headed out to wait for Zach and Morgan on the front porch. When they finally arrived, they came in two vehicles. One was a truck and it looked like the bed was where they were putting everyone's stuff, and the second was a late model SUV, sturdy and mud splattered.

I handed Zach my bags while Morgan introduced me to his brothers and their friends. "This is Garrett and Dave, my brothers, and that there is Paul, Kara, Brian, Adam, and Steph. Everyone, this is Cadie."

I waved hello and nodded, trying to remember all their names. I know that Garrett is the tall scruffy-looking one, Dave is the lanky looking one that looks a lot like Morgan, piercing blue eyes and all, Kara is the petite little redhead girl, and Steph is the sporty-looking blond. I lost track of the three other guys.

"You're riding in the SUV with me, but Zach's riding with Dave and his future brother-in-law."

"You have a sister?"

"No, my future brother-in-law, Ronnie's hubby-to-be is tagging along just as soon as they get here." Zach interjected.

"He is? How is he? Do you like him? Details, my man." I urged.

He looked like he was struggling for words but then got a sly grin on his face, replying, "We could stand around here talking about him and you can meet him yourself, or you can get in the SUV and hide from Ronnie as she's the one who is dropping him off."

"Oh, you play dirty," I scolded, slightly in admiration.

However, we didn't have to suffer through the bride's parting with her future groom. It seemed as if Garrett and Dave were eager to avoid a long drawn out display of affection, so as soon as they got there, we were hustled into the vehicles and were on our way. I didn't get a formal introduction until we were halfway up the trail the Crags. His name is Alan Tremaine, and he seems nice enough.

I was later to discover that he was a great story teller as he had most of the group in hysterical fits of laughter before we even had the campfire completely set up for the night, which boded well for the traditional campfire ghost stories.

I was not disappointed. When it came to be his turn, he began with, "I don't know any good ghost stories that can top the last one," all the while stroking his chin, "but I do know some old family tales about _immortelles_." He leaned forward at this, going all serious, and barely speaking above hushed tones.

When we nodded our eagerness for him to continue, he obliged, saying, "They say that there are creatures of the night destined to walk this earth for all eternity. They never truly sleep or find peace of any kind. My own grandmother swears they exist, says that she saw one herself as a little girl. He was a tall man with the palest of skin that glowed under the moonlight and had strange oddly colored eyes. He moved with astonishing speed, so fast that for years she doubted that she ever really saw him." He paused for dramatic effect, gauging his audience's reception. It must have pleased him because he resumed. "When she asked her mother about what she saw, her mother paled and broke out in a cold sweat, grabbed her by the hand and dragged her to the priest so that the devil's taint could be removed from her. She was so frightened by her reaction that she never mentioned it again, not for years. She finally asked her aunt about it, just before she got married to my grandfather, and she explained to her that these creatures feast upon the life force, and are also known as…_vampyrs_."

He carried on to tell of other sightings in New Orleans and the surrounding area that he had heard from various friends, family members, and acquaintances, but I tuned him out. His description of the man his grandmother had seen was too uncanny. Pale luminescent skin, odd-colored eyes, and inhuman speed. Oh, and insomnia.

My mind flashed to my first impression of the Cullen Clan and then to the day that I was miraculously liberated from Death's claws and then to my observances of his inexplicable changing eye color. I almost rejected the conclusion that I was beginning to draw, dismissing it as ridiculous, when I recalled his explanation for his aloof and hurtful behavior, insinuating that acting decently towards me was hazardous to my health.

I lay awake that night gazing up at the stars but not really taking in the view, which was sad because they truly were spectacular and one rarely has the chance for a cloudless night this far north. The next morning, however, I decided that I was going to continue with my plan not to let anyone, especially him, ruin my weekend, so I put aside my suspicions and enjoyed the rest of the day. I would do research when I got home.

We got back late that night, so late that Ian had fallen asleep on the couch waiting for me. After hustling him off to bed with promises to share stories the following day, I booted up my computer and went to take a shower.

I spent the rest of the night skimming over various articles and looking over some of the more credible websites. Not many of the myths out there applied at all to the Cullen Clan, but bits and pieces were close enough that I came to one conclusion: they were not completely human. They were more than human. They might be mutants. They might be children of the gods. I could not believe that they were spawn of the devil. Evan Keegan may be a rude male chauvinist, but he was not evil.

I decided to respect his wishes. If he wanted to keep his distance, I was not going to make it hard for him.

However, if that were to change, then I would extend a hand of friendship.

With this course of action decided on, I drifted off to contented sleep to the sight of the rising sun.

* * *

**AN: **Okay, so I know this is really long and dragged out. We're near twenty chapters and nothing between them has happened yet... But Cadie and Evan are freakingly stubborn people and haven't been able to swallow their pride. However, I have a feeling that this is going to change some soon. Thank you for bearing with them so far ; )

Next chapter - The Violation

Oh, and P.S. - Ronnie's fiance is based off a character from the John Wayne movie _El Dorado. _Brownie points to anyone who guesses which one.


	19. Chapter 18 The Violation

Chapter 18 – The Violation

I did not get a chance to observe the Cullen Clan with my new theory of their existence in mind. It was sunny for most of the week, and they had as per usual gone "camping." I briefly wondered how old Evan really was and if he had been born in an era that it was typical for the men to go out adventuring and the women to stay home. It would explain so much.

However, my thoughts were soon consumed by more pressing and immediate matters than local vampires (if one can believe that to be possible). When I got home on Tuesday afternoon, I noticed that the door was open. I knew Ian was gone for the day delivering his finished products so it should have been shut and locked. I would have called the cops right then and there, but my cell phone's battery had died. I readjusted my hold on my bag so I could better swing it as a weapon and slowly entered the house trying to not touch anything. Nothing seemed to be disturbed in any of the front rooms so I relaxed a little, grabbed the phone, and made my way upstairs.

When I got to my room, it was a different story. My beautiful vanity had been rummaged through and vandalized. It looked as if someone had keyed each and every drawer. My clothes had been gone through including my shoes, and my jewelry was dumped all over my bed. My books were off their shelves and littering the floor. Papers were scattered everywhere. My computer was powered on but locked as if someone had entered too many wrong passwords.

I began dialing then. I called the police first, and then Old Tink. I then left the house and went into Ian's workshop that was untouched to wait for help to come.

The police showed up first but Zach and Old Tink were not far behind. Zach sat on the porch swing with me while the cops looked over the house and asked questions and Old Tink fumed at my not telling him about the creeper call I received on Friday.

We were cleaning up my room when Ian got home. He handled it better than I expected, but I could see that there would be no more days when I would be home alone. He also reassured me that he could sand my vanity and erase the scratches so that they would no longer be visible. I wish it was that easy to erase the feelings of violation from my psyche.

I slept in the guest room until my room could be restored, which was going to be A.S.A.P. if I had anything to say about it. Old Tink offered for me to stay over at their house that night, but I refused to be run out of my own home, so I declined.

As I drifted off to sleep, I couldn't help but find it slightly amusing that Evan had urged me to stay at home this past weekend in order to be safe. He couldn't have been more wrong.

* * *

I had been grateful for the sunny day yesterday. It gave me a full 24 hours to calm down enough to deal with the news that Jacob brought home with him Tuesday evening. The girl's house and been broken into and vandalized while she was at school and apparently her room was targeted specifically.

I waited for her in the parking lot early on Thursday morning. I let her walk halfway across it before casually joining in step with her, hoping not to scare her as bad as last time.

"So I hear you experienced a break-in the other night."

"You heard right." She kept walking for a few more steps before adding, "And yes, my weekend was fine. It was great, in fact, thank you for asking."

"So I may have been wrong about your little excursion, but I was not wrong about you. Why don't you return home?"

She stopped, leaned against a wall, crossed her arms, and stared at me in bewilderment, "How is that going to solve anything?"

"Did you ever experience such rotten luck before you came here?"

She shook her head no, "But that doesn't mean anything, and besides I'm not going to run back to mommy just because some loser decides to play mind-games with me."

"Very brave of you," I scoffed, "but did you ever consider the validity of the motto 'run to fight another day'?"

She got this extremely annoyed and frustrated look on her face and began to chew her lip as she sunk into deep thought. Good, maybe I'm getting through to her.

This thought was soon proven wrong when her face cleared and she looked at me with her big green-grey eyes and pleaded, "Why? Why does it matter so much to you?"

The answer to that was so complex that I was sure that I hadn't even quite fathomed it yet, so I simply sighed, "I don't know," and ran my hands through my hair avoiding her gaze.

She was silent for so long that I finally turned back to her. She had this half-tender smile and half-smirk on her face. "You care. In your own way, you care about me. Pity, we can't be friends."

"Damn straight, we can't be friends! Or did you forget what I told you on Friday? I. Am. Dangerous."

Her face saddened then, "I _know_."

She said this in such an odd way that I had to question her, "You know _what_, exactly?"

My tone must have been overly threatening because she began to fidget and look for escape routes then, and of course, bite her lip.

I softened my expression, ducked down to her eye level, and gently asked, "Cadie, what do you know?"

Her eyes glazed over and she stopped breathing - not the effect I was aiming for. She quickly recovered though and breathed out, "I know about you and your family's secret, the reason for your little 'camping' trips."

I believed her. "For how long?"

She eyed me nervously, "Since Friday night. Zach's future brother-in-law from New Orleans went with us, and he was telling family ghost stories and such. Some of the stuff he said made me think of you." She shrugged and then looked at her watch, "Look, I've got to get to class, but I won't tell a soul, if that is what you are worried about, even if I could find someone nutty enough to believe me."

I watched her walk away, once again both disturbed by her and my reactions to her. I was not as concerned as I ought to be that she would reveal our secret, but that she seemed to be so accepting and blasé about who we were. She left our conversation trying to comfort me, the monster. She was too generous, and I had no idea what I was going to do about her.

* * *

I headed to class once again frustrated at the leaving a conversation with Evan unfinished. He has horrible timing. The next time we had one, I was going to be the one who scheduled it.

_Next time?_ A little voice questioned my optimism.

_It's not optimism. We need to finish this discussion, and he can't always be the one who calls the shots in our quasi-relationship._

I spent all morning devising a plan of where and when we could meet uninterrupted. As luck would have it, we did not break up into pairs in French class, so I had to relay my request via note.

_We need to talk._

I watched his face out of the corner of my eye. He remained completely, almost impossibly still as he had his internal debate. He finally nodded yes.

_Does Saturday work for you?_

Instead of nodding yes or no, he passed back a note himself. I couldn't help but note that his handwriting was neat, legible, and elegant. _Only if we can meet somewhere where no one can see us. _The word "us" had been written over a scribbled out "me."

Despite not knowing exactly what he meant by this, I nodded and passed back, _I know a place. Can you meet me at the creek and the trailhead just north of my house around 9am?_ By that time Ian will be so engrossed in his current project or the bills, making it easy to slip past him with a thin veneer of an excuse.

He nodded once, and I began to devise my list of questions.

* * *

**AN: **silly, silly girl - one part brave, three parts fool ; )

Next chapter - The Eyrie


	20. Chapter 19 The Eyrie

Chapter 19 – The Eyrie

I woke up early, slightly startled to see that it was going to be sunny yet another day with only partial cloud cover. It made me wonder if Evan would or even could show up. I slowly got dressed, choosing a pair of lightweight cargo pants, a short-sleeved green top, and my ever-dependable walking shoes. It was going to be a long hike to where we were going, but I also grabbed a hoody in case it got colder later in the day.

I slipped down into the kitchen, poured myself a bowl of cereal and a cup of coffee, and made sure Ian wasn't around to question my plans for the day. I packed a water bottle and a sack lunch anticipating that this conversation would need to take all day, and I did not want it cut short by my need to refuel. Before I left I wrote Ian a note, explaining that I was going to the creek trail with a friend and that he wasn't to worry, that I would be back around dinner time.

I drove as far as the dirt road that turned off the highway would let me go, and then I hiked down to the assigned meeting place getting there fifteen minutes early.

He was waiting for me under the trees, almost as if he was lurking in the shadows.

My heart started to beat erratically either out of shock or because that is just what he does to me. I kept my cool though and casually waved walking over and saying, "We follow this trail for awhile and then head east for about twenty minutes." He simply nodded watching me with his unnatural intensity.

I had about a billion questions, but I had no idea where to start, and apparently he didn't either because we walked in silence until we were nearly at the turnoff.

He finally broke it, "What precisely do you think you know about me and my family?"

"I told you that already." I said, reluctant to actual say it out loud and a bit irritated that he was making me. I wanted to discuss the things that I didn't know, not the things I already did.

"I find that hard to believe," he paused to lift a lowered branch out of my way so it wouldn't hit me in the face as I passed. He then supplied an answer to my unspoken question of why, "If you did, I highly doubt you would be wandering into the forest alone with me."

"We turn off here." I gestured.

I didn't have a logical reason to give him for my actions, but I realized he wasn't going to answer my questions unless I at least attempted to. "Alan Tremaine told a story of vampires." Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him flinch at the word. Confident now, that I was right, I carried on, "Apparently, she, his grandmother, had seen one when she was a little girl. He was radiantly pale, had odd-colored eyes, and moved impossibly fast. His family traditions also described them as being incredibly strong, very beautiful, and never needing sleep."

"Did these stories include what they feed on?" He ground out harshly.

I shuddered and then whispered, "Yes."

"And yet this doesn't bother you?"

I was a bit frightened at his tone of voice, but I stopped and looked deeply into his amber eyes, "No. It should, I suppose, but I just can't reconcile that fact with what I know." I began walking again, listing my observations as I went, "Carlisle is a doctor who works around blood constantly, and I haven't heard any reports of him growing fangs and attacking patients or nurses. Most of your family attends high school, and none of the students, teachers, or staff are sporting bite marks. And you saved my life." I finished this last part glancing at him to gauge his reaction. "So do you care to explain how all that is possible?"

He sighed, "Carlisle is an exception to the rule. The rest of us cannot do what he does. Do you remember the day Jasper and I 'fought' in chemistry class?"

"Yes," surprised that he was admitting that my theory was right.

"You got cut and were bleeding. Jasper nearly killed you, and as a matter of fact, I was tempted to as well." His eyes darkened at the memory.

"But you didn't," I softly stated, reminding him of this crucial fact. He looked as if he was going to explode in frustration. However, I stalled his forthcoming speech about how dangerous he was, how it was wrong for me to be so trusting in him, etc. with "We're here."

We stood at the base of tall and very wide pine tree that had a ladder made out of bars that had been strategically placed in the trunk of the tree. It led up to an old hunting stand. The view from it was spectacular. One could see the forest stretch out for miles all around, only slightly interrupted by the highway that wound through it off in the distance. It was even prettier than it was now when the sun was out, but it had disappeared behind the clouds that were promising rain for tonight.

When we got to the top, I sat down with my legs dangling over the edge and leaning against the railing, explaining, "My uncle Billy used to take me here as a kid all the time when I visited for the summer. He would sit and watch for birds, and I would sketch for hours. I love this spot."

Evan had sat down with his back against the trunk of the tree. When I turned to look at him, I noticed that he had not been admiring the panorama as I had been but rather had been watching me nervously. "What?" I asked.

"Could you move away from the edge, please?" he asked me unable to hide his anxiety.

"Are you afraid of heights?" somewhat incredulous that this bothered him so much.

"No, and you don't appear to be either. In fact, you don't appear to be afraid of anything," he snapped.

I sighed, wanting to protest but realizing that this would get us nowhere, so I bargained, "If I move, will you start answering my questions?"

He rolled his eyes in impatience, "I could force you to move, but I respect your autonomy. I would appreciate it if you would return the favor and respect my integrity. I said we would talk, and as I understand it, that requires a little give and take."

Relieved to find out that he grasped this concept, I moved more towards the center of the platform, hugging my knees to my chest as I faced him.

He relaxed somewhat but warily asked, "What do you want to know?"

"Everything," I blurted, still unsure of where to start.

He smirked a little at my childish response and then resignedly said, "I suppose, it's better then, if I start from the beginning. I was born in 1918 to a second generation Irish couple in Boston. I was the youngest with 3 older sisters and 2 older brothers. My father died when I was very young. I was very spoiled by the family due to my resemblance to my father, who was known for his exceptional charm and wit. We were a working family. My mother was a seamstress and a baker with help of my sisters. All of us boys went from odd job to odd job, and were well-respected for our honesty and integrity, so we were able to make do during the time of the Depression. Everyone, especially my mother, had high hopes for me to go to college and make a name for myself. I wanted to be an architect and was always drawing my building ideas, particularly my dream house, where I was to set up my mother, carefree and supported by my success."

I smiled a little to myself, imagining this adorable curly headed boy with his tongue sticking out as he made his sketches and then running up to his mother proudly showing his creations. I was jerked from this reverie when his voice became hard as he continued his tale, "I did go to college, and on my way back from celebrating the end of my first semester in 1936, I was bitten."

I wanted to reach over and touch him, to comfort him, but was afraid if I did he would stop. He was no longer looking at me as he recalled these painful memories. "I never saw my attacker, and I am unsure to this day why he didn't finish the job. I was left in an abandoned warehouse district that I had been cutting through to get back to my boardinghouse, so no one heard my screams of pain as the result of the turning."

He stopped then, lost in his memories, so I tried to move the subject to something less disturbing, "If Carlisle is not your 'sire,' then how did you meet him?"

He finally turned to look at me. I think he was slightly amused at my use of vampiric lore terminology. "I heard of the Cullens through a friend of a friend, Jasper's to be exact. I met Peter and Charlotte, friends of Jasper, in the Rockies, and they told me of a family that shared my dietary choices. It is a rare thing, you see, for our kind to abstain from human blood and live off of animals instead."

My eyes widened in dawning comprehension as I mouthed the word, "Oh." He watched me, waiting for me to say or do something, but when I didn't, he continued, "That was about eight and a half years ago. It took me a couple weeks to find them. They were expecting me though."

He made a face at that, which I wanted to ask him about but made myself focus, simply asking in bewilderment, "They were?"

"When one is turned, certain qualities from your human life are intensified. Alice can see the future, sort of, as it affects the family. She saw me coming."

I tried to wrap my mind around this new facet of the Cullen Clan existence and failed. I decided to accept it as so and move on. "Do you have a special ability?" I asked, even though I already had a sneaking suspicion.

He raised an eyebrow, "I'm sure you've noticed it."

"I've noticed the effects, yes, but I don't know how you do it." I patiently prodded.

"For the longest time, I didn't know how to do it either. In my early years in my new life, I began to notice that when I focused on someone and wished they would do something, they would invariably do it. I perfected it over the years, learning my limits and how to work around resistant minds."

"How come you couldn't get out of being my partner?"

"That's where those limits I mentioned come into play. I like to think that my abilities are a lot like hypnoticism. Even the greatest hypnotists can't persuade people to do anything that they are not unconsciously or consciously willing to do. It went against Ms. Girard's ethics to reassign us different partners, and it went against Mrs. Tyler's to bend the school's rules, so I couldn't even take the class on-line."

This explanation kind of made sense, but the topic brought back the feelings of rejection that I experienced every time I thought about it, "Why did you not want to be my partner? And please, don't give me that baloney about you being dangerous for me. By your reasoning you're a danger to everybody. Why me?"

He looked away again. I'm glad he did because the tears that I had been choking back because of my agitation would have erupted if I had continued to see the heartbroken expression that came over his face. He took a deep breath and then turned back to me, poker-faced, "Her name was Eliza, Eliza Rothchild."

I was a little confused as to what this girl had to do with me, but I said nothing. He reached up and pulled a thin branch right off the tree and began to strip it layer by layer. "Two decades into my new life, I had managed to resist my basic urges enough to live among normal people. I sought out shelter during the day at local food banks and places for the homeless. She was working at one of them. I fell for her, hard, and the feeling was mutual despite the fact that I was for all she knew a vagabond and she, the daughter of a wealthy businessman and a productive citizen. She wa a hostess for her father, and a leader of her church's junior charity circle, in charge of the children's department at the city's library that she worked at. She was as well as a volunteer at the aforesaid homeless shelter. I'm not sure even now what about you reminded me of her. You are nothing alike." He said this last part bemusedly.

I had started to have feelings of inadequacy as he was listing all this girl's accomplishments, for she was somehow was related to me; but they became full-blown with his last statement. I nearly protested my resentment, but he fixed his molten gaze on me, taking my breath away. His voice was half-accusatory and half-grief-stricken, when he said, "You especially don't react the same way. Our relationship became serious enough and I was confident enough in her affection that I told her of my true nature, offering her a chance of literal, forever love." He snorted in self-derision at his romantic idealism.

"She turned you down?" I queried sympathethetically.

"Yes." He curtly replied. More gently but still bitterly, he explained, "She was 19 years old, was going to school the following year, and had a life to live, a normal life. She wanted to be a wife and a mother, and I couldn't give her that."

"Not so different, then, if her reason was not because she believed you to be dangerous," I pointed out, earning another bemused smile in agreement. "So the reason you tried to avoid me was because I somehow reminded you of her?"

"Not exactly… I think, it was because something about you that day sparked my overwhelming instincts to protect you at all costs. I have never felt so strongly about anyone except her." He tossed the remnants of the stripped branch over the side, before concluding with forced nonchalance, "So, I suppose, really it was more that my reaction to you reminded me of my reaction to her, which made me finally deal with my grief."

He was beginning to drift back into that dark place that I could not follow, so I returned to the conversation to a previous topic, "Does anybody else in your family have special gifts besides you and Alice?"

He made that face again, and said, "Yes, Edward can read minds. Jasper can read and influence emotions, and Nessie has a similar gift as mine. She can project thoughts and breakthrough mental walls but only when she is touching the person."

"_Merde_." I breathed, recalling all the things that I had thought about them while they were sitting in the same room as me.

He laughed with abandonment at my horrified expression no doubt. I would have been irritated except for the fact it was so beautiful, having melodious quality that was mesmerizing, not to mention that it transformed his face into an expression of pure joy causing my heart to pound sporadically again.

When he finally stifled his laughter at my expense, he reassured me, "You don't have to worry. You are a unique individual. You seem to be wired differently; consequently, Edward can only hear the gist of your thoughts not the exact wording, and he really has to be focused on you. Jasper has difficulty, claiming that you are 'fuzzy' to him, and Nessie has only tried once with extreme difficulty as well. And I'm sure you've noticed that I cannot influence you at all." I smirked at this because I most certainly had. His frequent temper tantrums were evidence enough.

"What about the others? What are their 'intensified qualities'?"

"Bella is like you in that she has a mental shield, but she has been able to develop it so that she can now extend it to others as well. Carlisle brought with him his compassion. Esme her motherly love. Emmett his strength, and Rosalie her personification of the proverbial 'unmovable force.'" He chuckled, most likely recalling some instance of the supermodel's intransigence.

"You mentioned earlier that you already had a different diet from the norm of your kind before you met them. Why? I mean aside from the obvious." I shuddered a little at the thought of his alternative but more instinctive diet.

His face clouded over but not nearly as bad as before. "I have often wondered that. I think, it was partly to do with the fact that I was raised Catholic. They are very good at instilling guilt into a wayward soul." He flashed a lop-sided grin at me, before it disappeared with his next words, "After the turning I experienced the overwhelming need to feed that all newborns go through. Part of me though longed to see my mother and family. I think that is what kept me going through the agony of changing. I managed to make my way home. I saw my oldest sister and her two kids first. I lurched towards them eagerly, not because I was happy to see them, but because I lusted after their blood."

His self-disgust was oozing from every syllable he uttered. He was glaring at me, I knew, hoping to provoke a reaction. When I didn't give him one, he returned to his story, "I left then and ran away never to see them again. I made my way out of the city, sticking to the sewers and eating off of rats. I avoided civilization for the next fifteen or so years trying to master my baser nature. I felt like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Hyde won an occasion."

"Nobody is perfect," I said in hopes of communicating my understanding of his struggle.

This response seemed to provoke his earlier frustration at my ineptitude to grasp his very existence's threat to my health because he snarled out, "Perfect? No, I am far from that. I have not just made mistakes. I have deliberately hunted my prey, choosing my victims, stalking them, abusing my gift to persuade them to come to me. I did these atrocities merely because I was feeling the pangs of a jilted lover who discovered years later that his beloved is happily married and has three darling children. I killed people out of spite because if I was to be rejected as a monster than by God I was going to be one."

He was huffing and puffing at this point, staring at me in part anguish and part desperation. I felt torn as well. One part of me wanted to heed his warning and run, and another part wanted me to stroke his face and hold him to my chest and rock him. I could do neither, however, because I was riveted to the spot I was sitting in, unable to move, like a deer caught in the headlights. I eventually whispered, however, "But you are not like that now."

He sighed and exasperatedly, "No, the guilt that I experienced while committing these atrocities led to depression, so I returned to my substitute diet."

We drifted off into silence for awhile. He never took his gaze from me, while I focused on my shoelaces, sifting through all that he had revealed to me so far. I broke it to return back to the subject of his family, "Did everyone in your family come to the same realization like you did or…?" I didn't finish the question not sure how to phrase it exactly.

"Carlisle's story is a lot like mine except he has a perfect track record. Edward was turned by Carlisle when he was dying of the Spanish Influenza and was raised with Carlisle's beliefs. He went through a period of rebellion though, but like me he only attacked those who were equally monsters in their own way. Carlisle also turned Esme, Emmett, and Rosalie when they were at the brink of death. They have modeled their lives after him, but Jasper and Alice are more like me in that they experienced the rare development among our kind, a conscience."

"How did they join the family?" I wanted more details about the others, but I also wanted to respect their privacy. Plus, I had more questions that I wanted answered and was running out of time.

"Jasper left his previous lifestyle and took up the nomadic one, and he met Alice, who being able to predict the future saw him coming and also saw the two of them finding Carlisle and the others."

"What about Nessie?" at this point my stomach rumbled reminding me of the sandwiches and fruit that I had brought with me.

Evan smirked, "If I tell you her story, will you eat?" echoing my previous bargaining attempt.

So as I ate he told me of Edward and Bella's epic romance. They were the Romeo and Juliet who got to live happily ever after. It was all very hard to take in, producing a thousand different new avenues of questioning, but I chose only two. "How do you stay with them, constantly being reminded that they are living the life you wanted?"

He went so still that I thought I had turned him into a statue. He was looking at me like I had grown an extra head. I was not sure which was more disconcerting. "You know, even with Edward's ability to hear other people's thoughts, he was not able to understand why I remained so aloof with him, his wife, and even his daughter."

I shrugged, "but you are friends with them now…?"

"Yes," he smiled at me indulgently. "When I first came, they were expecting me. Most of them were curious, some more cautious than others. Esme was the most welcoming. We hit it off very fast discovering that we shared common interests. And Nessie is impossible not to love."

"Anymore questions?" he asked this while I was trying to picture their bizarre family dynamics.

I rolled my eyes at him, "Of course."

"You get one more," he said eyeing the darkening sky.

It seemed silly, my last question, now that I knew that it was my last for the day, but I couldn't think coherently enough to form another one so I blurted with my head lowered and my hair hanging in front of my blooming face, "Do I smell to you the way Bella smelled to Edward?"

He let out his glorious booming laugh, leaned forward, and tucked my hair behind my ear. "No, not in that way, but you do smell like 'sugar, and spice, and everything nice,'" he murmured, just before returning back to his position against the tree.

I couldn't move. I couldn't function. My brain had shut down at his very own intoxicating scent that washed over me from his nearness. I swear not a cell in my body was operating except for the red blood cells that raced to my capillaries just beneath the surface of my skin. When I recovered, all I could say was some inane comment about it being my shampoo.

"It's time to go."

I nodded reluctantly and unfolded myself from the position that I had maintained for way too long. My foot was asleep, so I, of course, did the graceful thing and collapsed at his feet. Or almost did because he caught me. "Are you okay?" He asked me concernedly.

"Yeah, just give me a second to get the blood flowing again," I reassured, but apparently he couldn't do that because he proceeded to pick me up, throw me over his shoulder, and then jumped off of the platform, landing gracefully, hardly jarring me at all.

When he put me down, I scolded him, "I would punch you, but I think, that would do more harm to me than you."

"Most definitely," he smirked as he continued walking.

We hiked all the way back to our meeting spot in silence, each lost in our own thoughts, when it dawned on me that I had no idea how he got there. "Do you need a ride home?"

He did his one eyebrow thing, "Cadie…superhuman speed…?"

"Right, yeah, never mind then," I ducked my head embarrassed.

I knew I should be getting home, but I was reluctant to leave and unsure of how not to awkwardly say goodbye. I had settled on "Au revoir," when he hesitantly said my name, "Cadie?"

"Yeah?"

"Can we meet here again tomorrow?" He looked like a little boy asking a mother if her son could come out and play.

I thought about it. If I did my homework tonight and we met a little bit later, I might be able to swing it. "Sure, but can we meet at 11 instead? I, uh, have a few things to do first."

"That's acceptable, but just so you know, I'm carrying you there to make up for lost time. It will be my turn to ask the questions tomorrow." He grinned mischievously.

I groaned and headed for my car. The look on his face did not bode well for my sanity.

* * *

**AN: **Hee, hee. This chapter was fun. I hope you enjoyed it. I can't wait to write Evan's chapter ; )

Let me know what you think of Mr. Keegan's background story, pretty please w/ cherries and dark chocolate fudge drizzled on top...


	21. Chapter 20 The Accord

Chapter 20 – The Accord

I had the silliest grin on my face for most of my trip home. Her panicked expression was just too rich. I sobered towards the end, however, because of all the things for her to be bothered by, my asking her questions should have been the least of her worries.

Edward met up with me when I reached the beginning of our driveway and indicated that we should continue on to loop around to the back where Esme was intending to build a greenhouse.

"How did it go?"

I finally stopped running complex calculus equations through my head and recalled my impression of the afternoon.

I recalled her tale of how she found out, her inability to perceive us as dangerous even when I told her that she nearly ceased to exist at both my hands and Jasper's, her insatiable curiosity, and her perceptive questions. Images flashed across my mind of her eyes filling up with sympathy and her biting her lip as she became anxious on my behalf and of her patience and understanding.

"She has no sense of self-preservation, does she?" Edward asked incredulous and a little amused but even more relieved that it was happening to me this time and not him.

I thought about it, but was still unsure if that was the case, "I don't think so. I got the impression that she hadn't digested and processed all that I was telling her. I asked to meet with her again tomorrow." I projected my chosen conversational topics to reassure him that I was doing all I could to convince her to realize the gravity of the situation that she had placed herself and us in with her discovery.

He nodded and then promised, "I'll talk to Alice and have her keep her mouth shut about all this for one more day, but then we'll need to talk to the family."

"Thanks," I nodded grimly and squeezed his shoulder. I truly was grateful. I wanted to solve this problem on my own without needlessly worrying the rest who had so kindly taken me in, but my chances of success were looking slimmer and slimmer all the time.

I met her at the same spot, fifteen minutes before our arranged time, the same as the day before. Her eyes lit up when she saw me, but as she drew closer she began to fidget with her sleeves, finally tucking her hands in her jean pockets when she stopped in front of me, "Hi."

I smiled in greeting purposefully showing my teeth in order to test her reaction. It was not what I expected; she neither flinched in fright nor had the careful stillness about her that was present yesterday. She did stop breathing for a second, however, and her heart rate sped up causing her skin to tinge a delicious pink.

I was unsure what this meant, but I decided to take advantage of the moment and pick her up and swing her around my back. "Hold on, and you might want to close your eyes," I jovially advised before taking off for the hunting platform.

We reached it in a significantly small fraction of the original time. I stopped at the base of the tree and asked her gently, "Are you steady enough to climb up or would you prefer if I did it before I let you down?"

Her delicate arms squeezed a little tighter around my neck and she mumbled into my back, "You."

When we reached the top, I carefully unwound her from around me and placed her where she had been sitting yesterday. She laid flat on her back with her legs drawn up and eyes closed, taking deep breaths, slightly paler than her normal fair complexion. "How was it?" I asked hoping and not hoping that I had frightened her.

Her response elicited both feelings of relief and disappointment. "Exhilarating, I suppose, like the best roller coaster ride ever, but, uh, not one that I would ride again with great anticipation." She was still trying to calm down, but she had opened her eyes. "You had questions for me?" She breathed, not sounding very eager but wanting a distraction, I surmised.

"I do," I informed her.

She sat up slowly and turned to face me, sensing, I think, the seriousness in my tone, "Okay."

"Do you remember what I told you of the Volturi?"

"Yes, they are the guys in Italy who have made it their business to keep your kind's existence a secret." She recited back to me, appearing a little confused at my mentioning of them.

"Do you realize that if they ever find out that you know about us that you, my family, and possibly others will pay the consequences for having such forbidden knowledge?"

Her huge eyes got even bigger, but she said, "I won't tell anyone, I promise, even if I could find someone who would believe me."

I sighed, resigning to the fact that was all I was going to get out of her, and moved on, "Now, that you have had a chance to think about everything, do you still want to associate yourself with me?"

"I'm sitting here, aren't I?"

I ignored her impatience at my seemingly idiotic question and got to the point, "Why?"

Her annoyance melted and changed into thoughtfulness as she looked away towards the forest floor below. "I did think about it. Yesterday was a lot to take in, and I am not one to jump without looking. My decision to move here may have seemed like a surprise to my mother, but I thought about it for months, and I have been thinking about whether I want a relationship with you for nearly that long as well." She blushed a little at this admission, but hastily continued, "And despite everything you've told me, I still want to be friends with you."

"Why doesn't any of this bother you?" I pressed.

She shrugged and then looked back to me, "I guess, it's because I respect you for not hunting your natural food source." She cautioned with her hand when I started to protest, saying, "I know you admitted to slipping on occasion, but I, an acknowledged vegetarian, have been known to slip occasionally."

My curiosity got the best of me, and instead of pointing out that the two situations were not the same, I asked, "You're a vegetarian?"

"Yeah, but it's not for the noble reason that most are. It's because I can't stand the grease that's usually produced when meat is cooked. I like sushi, but all I can think about now is Flounder or Nemo, thanks to my true vegetarian friend Eddie." She grinned sheepishly at that.

"I've been known to eat a Bambi or a Bagheera," I somehow recalled from what little I could remember of Disney in an attempt to get through to her, but it was to no avail.

"You eat jaguars?" her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open in astonishment, while she tried to take in this new trivial detail.

I leaned over and gently shut her mouth causing her to go pink again, while I laughed, "They are my favorite, really, and Emmett likes grizzly bears, and Edward likes mountain lions."

"Lions and jaguars and bears, oh my," she muttered to herself, but to me she said, "Well, I suppose, the carnivores have the closest resemblance to, er, your preferred entrée."

I smirked at her careful phrasing and was again amazed at her insightfulness, "Yes, but they are still a bit like your tofu."

She must not be a fan of the stuff because she made a disgusted face at that. Her expression reverted back to curiosity as she asked, "Did you have anymore questions?"

I smiled in eager anticipation because she was at my mercy. While she was still receptive to my interrogation, I asked, "Why did you decide to come here in the first place?"

Her expression saddened at this and she said, "It's complicated."

"Try me," I challenged.

She didn't answer at first, but instead looked out to the scenery below, fidgeting with her shoelaces. After an intermittent amount of time, she nodded and reverted back to her position of when she was recovering from her ride here, staring up into the sky. "I came for several reasons. My mom got married ten months ago. It's not that I resent that she did because I don't; I like Mark. She had been dating him for a couple of years, and I approve him. He's kind to me; in fact, he's overly generous to the point that I'm unsure of what to do. Anyways, I just feel that my mom needed space, so that she could just focus on him and their marriage and her career that has just begun to take off."

She paused and shut her eyes briefly, smiling a little, taking joy in her mother's happiness and success. "Two months later, my dad's younger brother, who had special needs and had been living with him for the past fifteen years since their mom died, passed away. Ian has lived on his own for less than a decade. He needs someone to fuss over and who can look out for him. Moving here just seemed perfect."

"Is that all?" I pressed gently, sensing that there was more to it.

She again didn't answer for awhile, but instead bit her lip and closed her eyes. I was wondering what was so difficult about this question (Was she running away from a bad break up? Unrequited love? What?), when she finally sighed and said, "I have never told anyone this before, but since you bared your soul yesterday, it is only fair that I do the same… Part of the reason I came here was because I wanted to take some control of my life. My mom had just remarried, my uncle died, and my friends had recently moved away. My best friend Ashley moved with her family to Vancouver, and my other friend, who is a dual citizen, had just joined the Peace Corps. Changes in my life were occurring beyond my control, and I wanted one, in which I had been the engineer of. After all, if my life was going to radically change, why couldn't it be because I chose to live with Ian for the benefit of both my parents?"

"That seems logical," _and completely consistent with your character_.

She popped up then and faced me, "So now that we have mutually bared our souls to one another, can we call ourselves friends?"

"We shouldn't, but I want to be," I answered her honestly, returning her intent gaze.

"Why? Not that I'm fishing for compliments or anything, but like you said it's dangerous for you and your family to be so familiar with me. It just doesn't make sense for you to do all this," she said while gesturing between the two of us.

I hesitated, taking time to weigh my words. I had thought about this a lot too, second-guessing myself constantly, but aside from the fact that I craved her understanding, it came down to the fact that the easiest way for me to protect her from her mystery caller was to be her friend, and friendship requires the sharing of one's deepest darkest secrets, (or at least that's the excuse I told myself). However, I didn't think she would appreciate that answer so I hedged a little, smiling in self-deprecation, "I have been intensely curious about you from the moment I first saw you, which was when you ran out of your first period class to answer a phone call. By the way, you are going to have to tell me about that."

She made a face causing me to chuckle for a moment.

"Anyways, despite the fact that your presence caused me distress, I find you fascinating, so it's only fair if I share my secrets in exchange for yours. Also," I paused to grin cheekily at her, "I thought the best way to keep you silent about your theory concerning us was to answer all your questions."

Her struggle for acceptance of the fact that I found her to be so intensely interesting was interrupted by the sun's decision to come out and show its face. I watched her reaction with avid and captivated interest. Her eyes got big, her mouth dropped open slightly, her breathing became shallow, and her fingers made an odd twitching movement.

I chuckled softly, "This is why we go on our 'camping trips' on sunny days."

"Oh, oh my," she gasped faintly and then asked, "Can I touch you?"

I nodded, my own breathing becoming shallow as I anticipated the pleasure of her warm and delicate touch.

She scooted forward and slowly extended her arm, barely touching the back of my now glittering hand. She said nothing for awhile as her confidence grew and she began examining my hand turning it this way and that, trailing her fingers as she went, but she finally did break the silence when she looked up at me and smiled slyly, saying, "So this explains how the myths got started about you being unable to venture out into the sunlight."

I nodded again trying not to look disappointed that she had ceased her feather light contact on my skin. However, after readjusting her position to sit cross-legged in front of me, she grabbed both of my hands in hers and began making circular motions on the back of them causing me to lean my head back against the tree and close my eyes in ecstasy. "So what else do you want to know?" she reminded me, gently pulling me from my trance.

And so it began.

I asked her what her middle name was. It was Rowan. This prompted me to comment about her car and ask about its design. She explained that other than the tree, which alluded to her name, nothing else was significant; she just thought they looked cool. I asked about her favorite books, and she replied that she had none but she was partial to specific genres, one of them being the classics, and certain authors. When I followed that with a request for names, she immediately rattled off Shakespeare, Austen, and Poe.

When I questioned her as to why, she said, "Shakespeare – because he had a phenomenal grasp on human nature, Austen – because, well, I am a romantic and her stories have happy endings, and Poe…" She began to chuckle evilly in great amusement, "Well, because only Poe would have a twisted and disturbing story about a homicidal midget." I smirked my agreement at that. Out of all of his stories, she would surprise me by referring to "Hop-Frog."

I am unsure what it was that made me remember my earlier question; maybe it was the word disturbing. Whatever it was, I then asked, "So what happened on your first day of school?"

She sobered a little and began to tell of the situation concerning her and her afternoon visitors. It explained so much about her mysterious behavior, her wild gesticulations, her fidgeting, her losing track of the conversations around her. When she was done, she questioned, "How did you see that?"

"I work in the office as an assistant during my first hour and the window is located straight across from your first class," I explained.

"You work for Mrs. Tyler? How?" She shuddered and had the most endearing look of incomprehension and horror upon her face.

I raised an eyebrow and said with heavy emphasis, "I _persuaded_ her that it was more efficient for her to send requests to me via email."

"Oh," she stated in understanding and then grinned in approval, "that's spectacularly devious."

"Thank you," I accepted her praise in exaggerated pride. "I thought that was rather brilliant myself."

She rolled her eyes and mocked, "You're modesty, never ceases to amaze me."

I ignored this jibe and moved on to my next question, "So what are your plans for after high school?"

She shrugged, "I don't know. I had been considering going to college to study art, but I may just go tramping through Europe first to see the greats."

"So you want become an artist," I attempted to confirm.

"Or something that is related to the field. I love architecture as well as paintings and sketches so I'm not sure which I would focus on."

The sun began its rapid descent beneath the horizon then, so I cut off our interlude and reminded her of the real world, "It's time to go again." I couldn't keep the regret I felt from seeping into my voice. It was comforting to discover that she felt the same way, if one judged by the expression on her face.

As we stood up, I held onto her hands to give her support in case there was a repeat of yesterday. She looked at me anxiously then and asked, "Are you going to let me climb down on my own or am I going to have to experience freefalling as well as the roller coaster?"

I laughed, "Come on, it can't be that bad."

She grimaced, "It is that bad. I hate the feeling of my stomach up in my throat. I don't even like elevators."

"Fine, but let me go first," I compromised, and then I jumped down to the base of the tree and anxiously waited for her to make her painstakingly slow and cautious way down. It was worth it, however, because she was more amenable to letting me carry her back to our meeting point.

Her recovery was faster this time, I think, because she followed my advice and had her eyes closed. Moreover, her question this time was not merely a distraction. "So are we 'secret friends' who return to ignoring each other while in the public eye or can I expect you to say hello when I greet you?"

I hadn't thought about the mechanics of our relationship beyond today, but I knew that I needed to talk with my family before we went 'public,' as it were. "I don't want it to go back to the way it was, but since this will affect my family, I think, it would be best if we kept this low key for awhile."

"You haven't talked about me to your family?" she asked rightfully astounded.

"Not since you dropped your little bombshell. Edward and Alice know, of course, but I wanted to see if I could scare you off before I worried the rest of the family," I answered honestly.

Her eyes flashed at this, but she only resignedly said, "Okay then, I guess, I'll see you tomorrow in French?"

I nodded and said, "Take care," as she got into her "Hearse" and drove off. I followed her as carefully as I could, keeping hidden in the shadows, in order to reassure myself that she made it safely home and that no one that shouldn't be there was waiting to harm her, before I made my way own return journey.

I had promised her that I would be there, but the truth was that this would only be the case depending upon if I could convince my family to accept her as they had Bella under similar circumstances. However, the consequences of that action may make them wary of doing so again.

It was going to be a long night.

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**AN: **Okay, I enjoyed this fluffy chapter, but what did you think?


	22. Chapter 21 The Gathering

This chapter is dedicated to A Nonny Mouse 23, for the awesome review. It was much appreciated. ; )

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Chapter 21 – The Gathering

When I got home, Jasper met me at the door. "Alice already called us together."

I grimaced, but accepted the inevitable as I followed him into the dining room, which we use as our conference room. When I walked in, I took into account where everyone was sitting.

Carlisle was at the head of the table, and Esme was standing next to him with her hands on his shoulders. She turned to greet me with her usual loving smile, but her eyes were filled with concern.

Edward was seated to the left of Carlisle with Bella at his side as was expected, but what was not expected was Nessie's position across from them leaving a chair open between her and Esme, rather than her sitting with her mother. _Interesting_. I was unsure what to make of that but grateful nonetheless.

Rosalie sat across from Carlisle with her arms crossed and wearing her usual mulish expression when it comes to these types of confrontations. Emmett sat next to her on her left, looking a little uncomfortable. _He must have gotten more than pricked by his Rose's thorns_, I thought whimsically to myself.

Jasper made his way over to stand by Alice, who was seated next to Bella. Her brow was puckered in concentration. I was unsure of whether to be relieved or anxious that this meeting's outcome was not set in stone.

As I sat down so did Esme, leaving Jacob to be the only one not gathered around the table. He was leaning against the breakfast board off to the side of Carlisle by the door with his arms crossed, glaring at Rosalie. Apparently, she had objected to his being there.

I decided to break the tense silence by stating the obvious, "I suppose, I should have stayed away. I'm sorry." I was apologizing for the consequences of my actions, but I felt no regret for what I did. If I had not, she would have died and that thought was unbearable.

Carlisle, however, surprised me when he disputed my conclusion, "No, it is not entirely your fault. We should have left when we realized that she had shields similar to Bella's and equal skills in observation. What's done is done. Now we need to decide what to do."

"It's obvious, isn't it? We can't afford to repeat the same mistake as last time. Do you think we should be so lucky if the Volturi come again?" Rosalie challenged nearly spitting in her angry vehemence.

"_If_ they come again," Carlisle countered, "but I think it is highly unlikely that they shall hear of this infraction as long as no one goes searching them out again." He glanced over at Edward with a half-teasing, half-admonishing gleam in his eye. Edward ducked his head a little at this reminder of his suicidal folly.

"We could move," Esme suggested reluctantly.

I sighed and grudgingly admitted, "That wouldn't solve anything because I would stay."

Jasper straightened up at this looking at me disconcertedly, "Why?"

It took me a second to realize that he was recalling the feelings of pain she had evoked in me in the beginning and was unaware that in the last few days I had dealt with that particular demon. "Because she is being targeted by someone, and I can't leave her unprotected," I answered.

"That's just great. You would choose this girl's safety over that of this family's?" Rosalie bit out. It looked as if Jasper was of the same opinion, which saddened me. She continued her argument, "Because in case this hadn't crossed your self-centered mind, she could let slip something that would cause others to make the same discovery that she did."

"She won't and no one would believe her anyways," I protested.

"You don't know that! Mistakes happen, and after all she put it together from a campfire story!" She glared furiously for a moment waiting for me to acknowledge that there was some truth in her statement.

"Rosie…" Emmett attempted to calm her down.

"Don't 'Rosie' me, Emmett." She snapped, but she had regained some control and in more moderated tones continued, "Besides, the Volturi are going to be watching us more closely. They want to see us fall, and this would give them a prime opportunity."

Edward finally piped up, "There is a possibility that was not open to us before…"

We all turned to him puzzled, unsure of where he was going with this. "Nessie has admitted that she can break through her mental barriers, so if you bring her around, we could have her alter her memories."

Panic exploded throughout my mind and my very body, and I erupted, "Absolutely not! No way in hell!"

Esme interjected, "Evan, you have to work with us somehow."

I forced myself to calm down; I needed to be able to articulate my fears in a convincing way if I was going to protect Cadence from their zealotry. "I know, I know, Esme. But this is not a well thought out plan." I turned to Nessie and said, "No offense, but I don't think you have mastered your abilities to the point that you can guarantee me or her that you won't do some damage along the way, and I don't think you can guarantee us either that it will even work." I then looked back to Edward and then to Esme, apologetically, "The risks far outweigh the gains, in my book."

"I agree," Rosalie surprisingly stated, but then not so surprisingly ominously followed that with, "There is only one way to correct our mistake."

Before I could exclaim my sentiment of "Over my dead body," Jacob snarled, "Oh, you would like that wouldn't you, _bloodsucker_!"

"It's none of your business, _dog_!" she snapped back.

The room became eerily calm after that as Jasper worked double-time to reduce the tension in the room, but they were still staring at each other intensely.

I was momentarily distracted from this typical stare down, by Edward's eyes flicking back and forth between Alice and Nessie, and then Nessie and Rosalie. Emotions of amusement, pride, and worry danced across his face before it resumed his blank solemnity again. Alice's face mirrored Edward's, but Nessie was quite preoccupied with glaring at Rosalie in outrage. This was a bit unusual; for she loved them both dearly, and as a result, she was normally torn by their animosity.

I was about to ask him what that was all about when Carlisle turned to Alice and commented, "Alice, you have not said anything yet. What is your opinion?"

We all collectively held our breath. The last time such a decision was to be made, the only thing that saved the girl's life was the guarantee that Bella would either become one of us or die at Edward's hands (well, teeth really). I knew that though the situations were similar, it was not the case now. I did not have the draw for Cadie that Edward had for Bella. I wanted to be her protector and possibly friend, but I would not let myself fall in love with her. I had learned my lesson from the last time, so there would be no guarantee coming from Alice that could persuade Jasper and Rosalie not to do what they felt was necessary.

Alice puckered her brow again and carefully said, "It is not like last time. There are too many outcomes, so I can't be sure…" Her face saddened a little as she looked at Nessie and sighed, reluctantly reporting, "But I can guarantee that if anyone of us does what is now being threatened, Nessie will leave us and never come back."

Pandemonium erupted at this announcement. Jasper had apparently lost control of the room in his shock. Bella and Esme were exclaiming "No!" Emmett had stood up when Rosalie had launched out of her chair in fury, in preparation of holding her back in case she went completely ballistic.

Carlisle, Edward, Alice, and Jacob were all looking at Nessie expectantly, and I was staring at her floored. I had not been expecting her to be this far in my corner.

"Why?" Rosalie pleaded. She looked as if she was a female version of Julius Caesar as he stared at Brutus in incomprehension of his betrayal. However, I could sense the possibility of victory on this front. Rosalie would never risk being separated from her niece.

"Why would I?" Nessie growled out still glaring at her in righteous indignation. "Why would you? How could you contemplate such a travesty? We are better than that. I thought _you_ were better than that!"

"It is necessary," Rosalie ground out.

"No, it is not, and the fact that you think so disappoints me," she whispered sadly. "The Quileute tribe has known about us, and they have never breathed a word."

"That is because they know that they will all die if they do so," Rosalie spat.

Ignoring Jacob's threatening growl, Nessie continued, "What makes you think Evan has not explained the very same concept to Cadie?"

"I have," I interjected, "and she understands the consequences."

"See? She is no threat," Nessie reassured. "Besides I like her. I think she would make a great friend."

Jacob let out a low whistle, beaming with pride at Nessie's persuasive argument. I was amazed too. The family's little duckling had grown all up. I wanted to pick her up and swing her around in my excitement and gratitude. The next time she wanted me to help her build the most amazing snow fortress ever or help her pull her next prank on Jacob, I would stop whatever I was doing and exceed her expectations. Edward, Bella, and Carlisle also looked pleased.

However, Rosalie was not yet ready to back down, "According to him," she snarled, gesturing towards me.

Jasper, the one I was most concerned about, finally said, "Both of you make a valid point. I, personally, would feel better if I could judge for myself her understanding of the position she has placed everyone in."

It was a testament to Nessie's power in the family that such a threat would work even on Jasper who had personally witnessed the devastation the Volturi could wreak on transgressors.

Carlisle nodded in agreement and then looked around the table finishing with me, "That's a reasonable request. Does anybody object to that?"

No one did, and I said, "I'll talk to her tomorrow, and see if she would be willing to come over. If she is, it probably won't be until next weekend."

Carlisle nodded understandingly, and with that the meeting was adjourned. Everyone went about their own way. Emmett squeezed my shoulder in congratulations as he passed, and Esme kissed my cheek before she left. I, however, stayed there.

I knew that I and Cadie were not entirely out of the woods yet, but I believed that the family would soon find it apparent that she would sooner cut out her own tongue than let words of betrayal pass her lips. She was that loyal to her friends. How else can one explain her adamant and reckless refusal to change lab partners?

* * *

That night I lay awake recalling every little detail of the day, just as I had done the night before.

I remembered his spectacularly stunning smile that he flashed at me when he greeted me. It literally was stunning since I seemed incapable of breathing for a moment there.

I briefly recalled the ride there, but soon moved on to more pleasant memories, such as my impending death if it ever became known that I knew of their true nature. I contemplated that for awhile, but decided that there was no point since I knew that that would not come about by any slip up on my part. I had grown up with my mother who would have made the questioners of the Spanish Inquisition proud and she had still not been able to elicit from me the destination of the honeymoon that Mark had picked out.

I thought about his admission that he found me to be intriguing. I couldn't fathom what he found so interesting, so I gave that up as a hopeless cause and moved on to trying to describe and comprehend his appearance in the sunlight.

I knew his skin to be as smooth as marble; but it appeared as if he was made of thousands of tiny diamonds or crystals, for he _shimmered_ in the sun. His dark lustrous curls, his molten golden eyes, and his iridescent skin were unbelievable. I wanted to bemoan the fact that I could never capture that moment on canvas, but comforted myself in that Da Vinci, Rembrandt, or Michelangelo could not either if they were ever given the opportunity to do so in their lifetimes.

I recalled the feeling of his cold skin as I examined his hands, and I smiled triumphantly at the memory of his reaction to my touch. It was nice to know that I affected him as well, other than as a painful reminder of a past lover.

I recalled his reaction also to my tale of the Matthews. I was pleased to see his outrage on Lottie's and Simon's behalf. It showed another facet of his character – compassion. I looked forward to learning more about him. I felt like that man who had found a pearl beyond compare. I too would be willing to sell all that I had in order to obtain this priceless gift.

I nearly giggled then. I had a momentary vision of a Mastercard commercial.

_Trip to Europe - $3,000. _

_College Tuition - $20,000+. _

_Friendship with an immortal Irish lad? _

_Priceless._

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**AN: **Oh my, if you can't tell, I really enjoy developing Nessie's character. I can just imagine her growing up with Bella's generally sweet disposition but sarcastic lip (encouraged by Jacob, no doubt) and Edward's charm and temper.

Anywho, next chapter - The Clan

Questions, comments, concerns?


	23. Chapter 22 The Clan

Chapter 22 – The Clan

As agreed we didn't go out of our way to display our new status of friendship. The only thing that we changed is that we began to have freestyle conversations again in French class. Monday he asked me about my life back in Quebec, wanting me to go into detail about my mom and our crazy adventures as she tried to raise me and go to school and build up her craftsmanship reputation.

This narrative was only stopped by him when he asked me if I had any plans for Saturday. I was in the middle of reassuring him that I didn't when Ms. Girard called the class to order. He passed a note to me after that, informing me that he would be picking me up around ten in the morning. I nodded my acceptance just before the bell rang, wondering what he had planned for that day.

Tuesday was much the same, as he asked me to describe my friends; doing so made me homesick so I vowed that it would be my turn the next day. I was unsuccessful at turning the conversation to him, which was probably a good thing because most of the questions I had for him were not something that I could ask even among unskilled French speakers. However, he moved on to less emotionally attached questions such as what were my favorite movies (_Casablanca_, _Princess Bride_, and _Fried Green Tomatoes_), what my favorite season was (autumn), and what was my greatest pet peeve (inconsistency). On Thursday, there was a pop quiz, but on Friday he asked me to describe my summer visits to Ian and Uncle Billy.

Saturday morning finally came, but I was grateful that Evan had set the meeting time for ten rather than earlier because I had stayed up late the night before unable to sleep as I pondered on the possibilities of what he could have planned for the day. I just hoped that it did not require him to carry me while he ran. I liked the feeling of being in control of my locomotion too much to surrender so easily to even his capable hands.

I also fretted about what to wear. When I had asked Evan, he had told to wear whatever I wanted and that I was not to worry because it was nothing that required anything fancy. I finally decided on my black slacks and purple v-necked sweater and silver scarf. I wore my unruly hair up in a ponytail, giving off the affect of semi-casual, I hoped.

I had told Ian the night before that I would be gone all day again. When he asked what I had planned, I told the truth and said that I had no idea. I then interrupted him before he could ask with whom, by questioning him on how his favorite college teams were doing. That set him off for a good fifteen to twenty minutes, at the end of which I escaped up to my room pleading that I had homework to finish.

I sat on the front porch and waited for Evan, while Ian was busy on the phone in his office haggling with his suppliers over something. I greeted Evan with my usual hello as I hastily raced to his truck, not wanting to try to explain to Ian why I was hanging out with Evan if we were still keeping it low key.

Evan dazzled me with his overwhelmingly gorgeous smile causing me to falter and nearly slip as I attempted to climb into his massive four-door monstrosity, but he shot out his arm to carefully snatch me up and gently place me in the vehicle. His eyes never left me as he reached across to pull the door shut, "Are you okay?"

I nodded, and in order to distract myself I turned my gaze away from his hypnotic one to look through his collection of music. There were so many options that I decided to just play whatever was already in the player. The first few notes were all I needed to identify the song, and I blurted, "You like _Nessa Dorma_?"

"You don't?"

"No, I love it. It's my favorite opera song." I explained a little incredulous.

"Well, what do you know, it's mine too." He casually remarked, but I could tell he was enjoying my reaction by the slight twitch of the corners of his mouth.

When the song was over, I turned the music down and began my quest for information before he could resume his. "You never did explain how Jacob fits into all this," I noted.

He took a moment before responding, but then cryptically replied, "That's because it's not my story to tell. However, he was a friend of Bella's in her previous life, and then when Nessie was born he designated himself as her official protector, so he's now permanently a part of the family."

After carefully mulling over that new piece of valuable information, I stated, "So it is possible for someone who is not of your kind to have a friendship with one of you… But what do you mean he's her 'protector'?"

He sighed, "The answer to that is what invalidates your comparison of their situation and ours."

"And you can't tell me?"

"No, it's his secret. You can ask him yourself though, today if you want to, but I would appreciate it if you didn't let on to the fact that you know about his self-designated role. Nessie only views him as her best friend, and Edward and Bella want it to stay that way for a few more years."

I was trying to picture how I would go about doing that without alluding to the forbidden subject, when I realized what he said. "'Today?' Are we going to hang out with Jacob today?"

"And the rest of the family," he casually replied – too casually.

I eyed him with suspicion, "And just when were you going to tell me that I was going to meet your family _today_?"

"I just did, didn't I?" he defended. "Besides, I did not want you to stress yourself out too much about this like you know you would."

"It would have been nice to have a little preparation," I muttered.

"No need to worry. I was going to do that," he reassured as best he could under the circumstances. "You have no need to worry about Esme, even though she is the only one you haven't met. I like you so she'll like you too. In fact, there's only two who will give you pause for concern. Rosalie despises you because you represent a threat to the family, and that's all she sees. Don't let her bad manners unnerve you," he advised, and then he blithely continued, "And Jasper is a little wary of you as well. That's partially for the same reason as Rose's hatred and also because he struggles the hardest with our lifestyle. He'll warm up to you, when he realizes that you are trustworthy."

"Oh," I breathed trying not to let these facts overwhelm me. "What will he do if I can't convince him of that?"

"He and Alice will relocate somewhere else for a few years as a precaution," he replied reluctantly as if he didn't want to add anymore to my growing anxieties.

I bravely continued, needing more information but not sure I was ready to hear it, "Anything else? Are there any other conversational topics that I should avoid?"

"Not that I'm aware of," was his extremely comforting and ever-so-helpful reply.

With this I turned up the music and focused on reigning in my butterflies. It would not do to upon first meeting the parents to acquaint them with the contents of my breakfast.

Evan pulled into a long driveway that wound through the dense forest much like my own and then came to a stop and announced, "We're here."

I at first didn't even see the house; I was so focused on the fountain that was the centerpiece of their cul-de-sac driveway. It was exquisite. The basin was circular and outlined by a mural relief sculpture of incredible detail and had floating lily pads on the surface of the water. The first tier consisted of ferns and toadstools and ivy, which climbed up to the second tier, which consisted of boulders that had lounging dryads that surrounded the figure bursting from the confines of the pond below. This figure, which formed the third tier, was an androgynous water nymph of incredible beauty, with long flowing hair and an exultant expression as it cried its triumph allowing the water to pour from its mouth and trickle from its outstretched and well-toned arms.

While I was examining this masterpiece, Evan had gotten out and come around to open my door. This action caused me to turn my attention to the house. It too was phenomenal. It was two stories, white, and slightly raised. The steps and the foundation were made up of slabs of the smoothest river rock. The steps led up to a shallow concave porch that was mirrored on the second floor by a balcony, which was supported by pillars. The intricately twisted columns of iron appeared to be so delicate that I imagined that the intended purpose of support was in this case secondary to the purpose of being aesthetically pleasing. The doorway I could see even from here also contained superlative scrollwork. It would have made Ian mad with envy. Moreover, at least the front two corners of the building were rounded like faux towers and each had multiple bay windows, two per floor, either overlooking the driveway or facing north or south depending on which corner of the house they were on. I also noted that the shutters for all the windows matched the pillars on the porch and balcony.

Just as we were climbing the steps (or I should say as Evan was slowly coaxing me up the steps), Nessie pulled the door wide open and bounced out with the most delighted smile and welcomed me, "Oh good, you're here! I just about killed Evan when he told me that he hadn't told you he was bringing you over to meet us." She grabbed my hand and dragged me over the threshold, rolling her eyes, "Why he thought it would be wise to spring this on you, I don't know."

"I don't either," I muttered, but I had no chance to say anything further or even take into much stock my surroundings (I only noted that there was wood flooring) as she pulled me along through the front room and out the back door, chattering all the while, "Evan can give you the tour later, but in order to make up for his gross miscalculation, I thought it would be best if we start off this visit in the presence of more familiar faces." I was wondering who she was referring to, when she called out, "She's here, Jacob! Hey Emmett, pay up!" By way of explanation, she whispered to me, "He bet me a new stereo that you would faint when Evan finally told you."

"Aww! Nessie, you shouldn't have told her that. Now, what is she going to think of me?" Emmett protested in his great booming voice.

"She would have found out sooner or later, you overgrown barbarian!" Jacob called over his shoulder causing Emmett to laugh in acknowledgement, and then he turned back to me and asked, "How are you doing?"

I looked up (and up) and noted the concern in his eyes, so I answered truthfully, "I'm a little overwhelmed, but I think I can manage."

"That's the spirit!" Emmett encouraged, as he shoved Jacob aside and put out his hand, "I'm Emmett." For all his boisterousness, he only cautiously shook my hand, before letting it go and gesturing over to the third man in their party, "And that over there is Jasper."

I nodded in greeting and smiled. It slipped a little, when I recalled that Evan's closest friend was not as receptive to me intruding into their world as the others appeared to be.

As I was examining the back portion of the house, noting that the majority of the walls were constructed of glass permitting the rays from the rising sun to flood the house and that indeed the back two corners were the same as the front, three more of the Cullens came out to greet me. The first was Alice, followed by Edward and Bella, who were holding hands.

Alice came bounding up, much like Nessie had, but unlike Emmett's cautiousness, she felt no hesitation in greeting me, giving me a kiss on the cheek before cheerfully chirping, "Hi, I'm Alice."

Upon getting over my astonishment, I smiled warmly and responded, "Hi, I'm Cadie."

"And Cadie, this is Edward and Bella. Bella and Edward, this is Cadie," Evan stated, finally able to make the proper formal introductions.

Bella stepped forward a little, but then must have changed her mind because she stopped. She still greeted me warmly with a mysteriously knowing smile and said, "It's a pleasure to finally meet you." Edward nodded his agreement but to Evan he commented, "Carlisle and Esme are in the office. They said that they would be down later or that you could drop by at your own convenience."

Evan nodded and announced to everyone, waving royally and proclaiming magnanimously, "Carry on to whatever you were doing before we so rudely interrupted." He then indicated that I was to follow him, guiding me with his hand barely touching my lower back. I felt seven pairs of eyes following me as we left.

We walked back into the house at a more sedate pace so I was able to take more into account the interior layout. The front room was tri-level. The center of the room was slightly sunken in and had white wraparound booths for couches as well as two settees, arranged around a coffee table. They had equal access to the convex stone fireplace in the northeast corner of the room, and there was access to the southwest corner of the room, which was raised to be like a dais. I mentally dubbed this the musical center as it had a grand piano, cello, and violin. To the left were two doors and to the right were three other doors, all leading to rooms unknown.

The second story overhung and wrapped around the front room. The southeast corner had one iron and stone spiral staircase, and the northwest corner off to the right of the front door had another. The back portion of the second floor overlooked the room below as it also had glass walls to let in the sunlight.

I was trying to figure out how one accessed the second story balcony that only seemed to be connected to the house by yet another glass wall, when Evan gestured that we go upstairs, "Do you want to see my room first or meet the rest of the family?"

"Will we be intruding if we go now?" I asked, wanting not to show my feeling of being overwhelmed but also hoping to get it over with.

He seemed to sense this because he gently replied, "No, I don't think we would be, but we'll keep it short anyways."

We climbed up the spiral staircase near the front door, where I saw at the landing a faint outline of a doorway that must let out to the balcony. We passed the first three doors and the turnoff for the walkway that connected the two sides of the house and was in front of the glass-walled room, before Evan gestured to the last door, "That leads to my bedroom." However, he turned right and knocked on the glass door across from his own.

"May we come in?" He politely inquired.

The door jerked open and Rosalie came out, looked me over, and nodded slightly in greeting, grim-faced, before continuing on her way. It happened so fast that I was beginning to question if it happened at all.

These musings were interrupted, when Evan softly touched my hand to guide me into the room. I had seen Carlisle before at the hospital, but I forgot how _young_ he looked. He had been seated behind the desk, but he had risen upon our arrival to greet us. The woman standing next to him was over half a foot shorter than him, and even younger looking. I could see why Evan would call this caramel hair-colored and heart-shape faced woman as the epitome of motherly love. She appeared to be very soft and welcoming as she looked at me.

"Carlisle, Esme, this is Cadie. Cadie, this is Carlisle and Esme," Evan introduced his gaze flickering back and forth watching our reactions with glee. He looked and sounded as if he was introducing his girlfriend, the one who was for keeps, to his parents; his demeanor exuded anxiety, excitement, and pride. It was so adorable.

Esme must have noticed too because she beamed at me and said, "It is an honor to finally meet you, Cadie."

Carlisle came around the desk and cautiously stuck out his hand, "It is nice to see you again, especially under far more fortuitous and pleasant circumstances."

I blushed a little at the memory of our last encounter, hospital gowns are never flattering, but merely said in reply, "Yes, I would have to agree on both accounts." I nodded and smiled at Esme to indicate that I too felt the honor.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Evan relax a little in relief causing my mouth to twitch in amusement. Whether he noticed my reaction or not, he carried on, "Sorry to intrude, but I wanted to make sure we stopped by before you were called into the hospital for anything, Carlisle."

"Very wise of you, Dr. Bueller does have a tendency to want to switch shifts on the weekend," Carlisle commended.

Since it looked like Evan was going to give me time to exchange idle chit chat with some of his family members, I decided to voice one of my many burning questions since I got here, "If you don't mind my asking, who designed the fountain out front?"

"Evan did," Esme reported, overflowing with pride.

I looked at him gape-mouthed. He simply looked at me and shrugged, "With a little help from Nessie and Esme."

I eyed him suspiciously, thinking _define little_. Knowing that would get me nowhere, I moved on, recalling the state of this house in years past, "From descriptions I've heard about this house from others, I gather you have done a lot of improvement." I directed this towards Esme but watched Evan's reaction to her reply.

She chuckled softly, "Yes, we've done some major transformation to this house. I took some ideas from previous homes that we have lived in, but this office, the staircases, and the fireplace were Evan's ideas."

He appeared to be uncomfortable that she was discussing his accomplishments again, so he bade his polite goodbyes and ushered us quickly out of the room and into his.

It really wasn't a bedroom. It was more of a studio. Most of the walls were covered in black cloth that had framed blue prints strategically placed around the room, but the wall to the right of the door consisted of the same stones of the fireplace below and the steps out front. Hanging from a nail that was pounded or drilled between two stones was a photograph of someplace in Ireland, if one judged by the intense green of the landscape, and below it was an antique walnut writing desk and matching desk chair.

Straight across from the doorway was one of the many bay windows of the faux towers. Its counterpart was to the right and overlooked the clearing that was their backyard but also had the view of the snowcapped mountains, while it had the less grand view of the driveway that led to the garages. They both had cozy little window seats and were separated by a black shelving unit filled with CDs.

The rest of the furniture consisted of a couch, two bookshelves, two ottoman stool-like chairs, and a writing table. The couch was an expensive-looking ivory suede giant beanbag and was positioned on the left wall across from the bay window with the splendid view. It was flanked by the two well-stocked matching black bookcases. The chairs were pushed up against the wall, across from the closet that was to the left of the door to make room for the dominating piece of furniture – the writing table, which was covered in architect paraphernalia. I recognized their significance as soon as I saw them due to my mother's and her clients' frequent use of them.

After wandering around the room and touching this and that and peering out the windows, I commented, "Nice digs." Turning to examine the table's contents, I inquired, "So what is it that you are currently working on?"

He ceased his careful examination of me and eagerly came forward to explain, "A greenhouse for Esme, but I have been having difficulty with the best location for the water heater; the solution eludes me."

He was in the middle of sharing his reasons for his quandary, when Nessie popped her head in, "Sorry to interrupt, but Dad needs your help explaining the new composition to me."

"Now?" Evan asked more out of suspicion than exasperation at the request.

But all she said was, "I don't know, but please don't shoot the messenger."

"Do you mind?" he asked me apologetically, most likely thinking of my earlier feelings of being out of my depth.

They were still there but were now submerged by my peaked curiosity, so I shook my head and replied, "Lead the way."

We followed Nessie down (at a much more reduced speed), retracing our steps from our previous ascent. As we did so, I noted that Edward was over by the piano and Nessie was making for the fiddle that rested on top of it. More importantly, I noticed that the entire Cullen Clan was gathered below.

Esme and Bella were seated on the corner of the couches closest to the dais raptly watching Edward as he played the most beautiful piece that I ever heard. Evan leaned over and whispered in my ear, "He wrote that for Carlisle and Esme. It's Esme's favorite." Upon hearing this, I wondered if he wrote _that_, then why did he need Evan's help?

Carlisle was seated next to Esme, watching her with the most loving expression on his face. I had to look away. My eyes then focused on Rosalie and Emmett. Rosalie was seated on one of the settees, and Emmett was sitting on the floor, leaning against it with his head in her lap allowing her to play with his curls. He was making the loudest contented sounds I'd ever heard from such a simple action.

Since that tableau also required a distraction, I focused on the other three people in the room. Jacob sat aloofly on the end of the L-shaped booth that Carlisle and Esme occupied, completely absorbed in watching Nessie. Alice was perched on the other settee, while Jasper stood behind her with his hand lightly caressing her neck. He stopped when he saw me enter the room.

Noticing his reaction, Bella turned towards me and patted the seat next to her on the couch that had its back to the door, saying, "Sit here. You'll want a good view for this." So I complied as I watched Evan walk over to join Nessie.

He speedily conferred with Edward and Nessie as to what the problem was. Then, taking the fiddle from Nessie, he indicated that Edward should begin playing; he joined him on the second measure and superbly demonstrated on how it should be done. I wanted to clap at the end, but I restrained myself as he gave it back to her gesturing that she should try it for herself.

She must be a fast learner, because I could detect no difference in her rendition of the piece from his.

When she was done, she said, "Thank you, Evan and Dad, but could you two play for Cadie?"

Edward's immediate agreement, "Which piece do you recommend?" caused Evan to sigh.

"The _Third Wife's Sacrifice_," was her immediate reply.

Both of them smiled fondly at her when she said this, so I assumed that this was a request that she frequently made. She set down her fiddle and made her way to sit cross-legged on the floor between her mother and Esme, while Evan picked up the violin.

Despite her eager anticipation for this song, I was unprepared for the beauty of it, or its intensity. It was a tragic piece, starting off dark and slow and ending in bitter sweetness. Edward's part of the duet was filled with the violence and the outrage, sounding much like a storm or battle, but Evan's was a dirge, a mourning plaintive wail, that intensified exponentially until the end in which it gradually petered off. It reminded me of what I had always imagined the sound of a grieving wolf, howling at the moon, would make at the loss of its mate.

Once they were done, I self-consciously realized that I had been crying. I rubbed my face and wiped the tears, grateful that I had not put on mascara this morning, and accused Evan as he came up to me, "You never told me that you could play the violin or that you were musically gifted."

He shrugged nonchalantly, "It never came up," but then his expression changed to one of mischief, "While we are on the subject, I suppose, I had better inform you that I play the cello also."

I was flabbergasted for a moment before I muttered, "Of course you do!" I turned around and crossed my arms staring stonily at my feet. I was so bothered by this that I momentarily forgot that his family was watching my every move.

I was not left to pout for long before he was at my side, gently turning me towards him, "What's wrong?"

I melted a little. I shouldn't take out my lifelong feelings of frustration and recent feelings of inadequacy on him. So I explained quietly, "I'm just jealous. I've always wanted to learn how to play the violin or cello."

"Why didn't you?" His volume level matching mine.

"My mother could never afford the lessons, plus I would have had to join the band in order to have access to either of those instruments." Realizing that I was whining, I tried to make up for it by joking, "I had friends who managed to escape before the director claimed their souls, so I was fortunately warned before I fell into that deathtrap."

"I could teach you, if you wanted," he graciously offered.

I, being me, did not graciously accept. "You would do that?!" I exclaimed incredulously because it was just too good to be true. Years of resentment for having the rotten luck of missed opportunities faded away completely. Who could imagine a better instructor than this divine being who sat before me?

My expression and exclamation must have been highly amusing because Emmett had burst out into his booming laugh and Evan was grinning his impish smile.

I ignored them both and focused on Nessie who had gone to sit next to Jacob, while her mother joined her mate who was softly playing at the piano. "Evan's the best teacher ever. You should take him up on his offer."

"I would have said that I noticed, but I was unsure if that was due to the tutor or the skill of the musician," I replied, referring to her playing earlier.

My response must have pleased her because she blushed a faint pink and changed the topic, asking slyly, "So what did you and Evan talk about for two whole days?"

I raised my eyebrows, "Aside from the obvious you mean?"

She rolled her eyes, "Yes!"

"We talked mostly about me for one of those days. He asked me random questions like who my favorite authors were and about my car." I shrugged one shoulder, reluctant to give too many details of our conversation because I viewed it as private and almost sacred, but I could soon see that this would not be enough to satisfy her, so I continued, "We also talked of our strangely similar dietary practices."

Her father let out a small bark of laughter at this causing me to look at Evan. From the smirk that he wore on his face, I gathered that his thoughts must have provided an explanation for Edward as to the meaning of my cryptic statement. He finally let everyone in on it as he rumbled in amusement, "She's a vegetarian."

It was amusing to watch everyone's varying degrees of incredulousness, but my favorite was Emmett's. He protested, "How can you eat just the green stuff? That's not food; that's what food eats!"

I shrugged and laughed, "I just don't find meat very appealing. It's forced Ian to get very creative with his cooking since I moved in."

"Speaking of that," Jacob interjected, "what's the secret to that one dish your dad made and brought over the other week to the garage?"

"Family secret, wild horses couldn't drag it out of me," I replied, and then laughed once again, "In fact, Old Tink has been trying to get that recipe from me for months, even offering me a bribe of a fifty percent discount on the paints I ordered."

"Really, why?" He seemed genuinely curious and highly amused at this.

I thought about this for a moment, "I think, it's because he wants to be able to out-cook his future-son-in-law who happens to be a Cajun chef, at least once." I slowly grinned while sighing exasperatedly, "But the problem with that is even if he did have the recipe, he'd only embarrass himself. He has yet to realize that cooking is not like assembling a car engine. It takes more than just following the instructions."

Evan stood up then and stated, "Well, since the music lesson is over, I hope, no one minds if I take Cadie over to the greenhouse. She expressed some interest in seeing it earlier."

No one did, it seemed, so we left to my relief the room filled with ten pairs of inquisitive eyes. We walked down the path a short ways to the east through a small stretch of the forest, until we reached a small clearing that had a stream running through the far corner of it.

"This is where we are going to build it," he explained.

"It's pretty," I whispered in appreciation, "but can I ask a question?"

"I don't know can you?" he grinned at me, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

I rolled my eyes at his immature response, "Why is it that you do all this," I gestured at the clearing, "When you are going to be leaving in less than two years?"

"We like to do productive things with our endless amount of time," he explained. "And who knows? We may be back here in a hundred years or so."

"When no one is left to remember," I whispered sadly.

Not wanting to let me dwell too much on this depressing truth, he offered yet another distraction, "You still want to ask Jacob your questions?"

"Of course," I cheekily replied. When did I not want my questions answered?

He led me back to the path towards the garages pointing out other renovations they had made. "At the edge of the clearing, towards the southeast, we built Jacob a guest house to stay at. He was sleeping over the garage, but Rosalie kept working on her cars purposefully disturbing his sleep, when he was over here. Usually though, he stays at his own place in town that he rents." He stopped at that, pursing his lips as if he might have said too much.

"Why?" I pressed.

He grinned in relief when he entered the garage, "Well, you'll just have to ask him that." He then called out to Jacob, "Hey Jake! I've got to go do a few things. Think I can leave Cadie in your care?"

He looked up from the motorcycle he was working on and snorted, "She's safer with me than with you any day."

I could tell this comment disturbed him, but all he said was, "That's debatable. Anyways, Cadie has a few questions for you."

I watched him walk away, irritated with his parting shot that left me in an awkward situation and curious as to where he was going. My thoughts were interrupted when Jacob drew my attention back to him saying, "So what do you want to know?"

* * *

**AN: **Wow, so that was a little description heavy, but I could just picture their house and his room all in my head and wanted to attempt to convey it to you.

Anywho, this was the first part of Cadie's meeting the family...What did you think?


	24. Chapter 23 The Bend in the Road

Chapter 23 – The Bend in the Road

_"Oh, I've dozens of plans... I've been thinking them out... I shall give life here my best, and I believe it will give its best to me in return... My future seemed to stretch out before me like a straight road. I thought I could see along it for many a milestone. Now there is a bend in it. I don't know what lies around the bend, but I'm going to believe that the best does. It has a fascination of its own, that bend... I wonder how the road beyond it goes--what there is of green glory and soft, checkered light and shadows--what new landscapes--what new beauties--what curves and hills and valleys further on..." - Anne of Green Gables_

* * *

"Well… Evan seems to be under the impression that it is unhealthy for me to be more than classmates with him." Jacob made a no-duh kind of snort, but I ignored him, hastening on, "which is understandable, I suppose, except that you seem to be a huge part of their lives and yet are not _undead_."

Jacob became poker-faced and flatly said, "That's because I'm different."

"That's what he said," I persisted, waiting for more.

"How much did he tell you about me?" he cautiously questioned, eyeing me warily.

I shrugged, "Only that you were a friend of Bella's before…and that he couldn't tell me more because it's not his secret to tell." I carefully assessed his reaction, but he gave nothing away.

His face softened a little though and he said kindly, "I would tell you my story so that you could understand better why your situation is far more dangerous than mine, but it's not my story alone to tell."

I nodded, thinking. The pieces were slowly coming together. His abnormally warm temperature, the fact that I was walking among myths, Evan's nickname for him, and even more secrets that somehow connected him to this bizarre family but was not closely tied enough to the facts I knew to allow him to reveal any more.

I eyed him speculatively then. If vampires could exist, then why not werewolves?

This thought triggered many more and I blurted, "If the Cullens hunt animals when they are thirsty, what do you hunt?"

"What?!" he bellowed.

I tried not to smirk with satisfaction at my abrupt question breaking through his guarded reserve. I explained instead, "I mean, during the full moon …?"

This set him off laughing, making me doubt my conclusion, until he said wiping the tears from his eyes, "Evan was right. You are too sharp for your own good. Not even Bella figured it out with as little as you had to go on. What gave you that idea?"

My mouth dropped open, "So, I was right? Weird." I pondered the implications of this, and then answered, "Well, really, it was Evan's bellowing at the river that one day. I thought he was calling for his dog."

"Stupid bloodsucker," he muttered exasperatedly and then he chuckled, "No, you are not right. I am not _his_ dog, but I do change into a wolf. However, I'm not a werewolf either."

I looked at him beyond confused by his distinctions. He watched me flounder for a bit before finally supplying a label for his species, "I'm a shape shifter."

"Oh," was all I said as if that really explained anything.

He rubbed his hands through his hair and leaned against the hood of the work table behind him, "I am Native American. My family descends from our tribe's earliest chiefs who were spirit warriors. To make a long story short, during a tribal crisis one of them discovered how to take wolf form, which came in very handy when _the cold ones_ trespassed upon our lands or our neighbors."

"So your kind and theirs are enemies?" I asked trying to find clarity in this new world that I had discovered without asking him to give too much detail that might cause him to compromise his family's identity.

"Essentially, yes, but my great-grandfather made a peace treaty with Dr. Fang when he and his family came the first time, claiming that they did not harm humans, and when those who did threatened people we mutually loved, we made an alliance."

"Bella," I stated recalling some of what Evan had told me.

"Right, Bella," he confirmed. "Can I ask you a question now?"

"Of course," I readily assented.

"Now that you know all this, why do you want to become involved, more than you already are?"

I looked away and out over the clearing, thinking. I wanted to do my reasoning justice, but since the logical thing was that I scream and run like crazy, I didn't think that was possible. "I don't know..."

We sat there in comfortable silence after this honest admission for several minutes as I gathered my thoughts. Finally, I bit the bullet and looked at him directly. "Have you ever come to a fork in the road, and one of the alternatives is a long straight path with no surprises and completely smooth and even, while the other you can't tell what it's like because it's so curvy?"

He nodded, although I could tell he didn't seem to like where this was going. "Being friends with Evan is like choosing the curvy road. Every bend has a surprise, some good, some bad, but there will be hills and valleys to explore. It will be fascinating."

I smiled at him now, "So I guess, it's because I feel that if I don't, I'll miss out on one of the most enriching experiences of my life."

I was right. It was impossible to make myself understood, judging by his spluttering, "'Enriching!' You do know that if you even get so much as a paper cut, the bloodlust could become too much and he could kill you? 'Enriching,'indeed!"

"I know that!" I protested. "He told me that. I don't deny that he _could_ do that. It's just that I know he _won't_."

"And how do you _know_ that?" he challenged.

"I feel it right down to my bones," I declared, "and my bones don't lie." I straightened up and attempted to stare at him eye to eye, daring him to poke fun at my personal truth detector, but it also failed miserably due to our disparaging heights.

"Sure, sure. Your bones told you," he scoffed.

"Have you never been so certain of something that your bones didn't feel as if they vibrated like a tuning fork? Have you never had so much faith in something or someone that to doubt it would be to doubt the existence of gravity or even yourself?"

I must have hit a nerve or struck a chord or something because he looked at me strangely then, much like Evan did when I called him out on his Bunberrying, but then he shook it off and resignedly sighed, "Your funeral."

At this time Evan came back announcing that lunch was served. He led me back into the house and through the door closest to the piano. It was a fabulous kitchen. It had black marble countertops and stainless steel modern appliances. Covering the island in the center was about every produce item imaginable.

Evan laughed, "Esme and Nessie kind of went overboard. You see we normally only stock up on more high protein food items for Jacob, so they went shopping."

"He went too, but was no help at all," Nessie complained.

Esme, trying to keep the peace as the two of them tussled a little, said, "We made you a salad and cut up various fruit, so take your pick dear. Evan did say that is what you prefer at the cafeteria at school."

"Thank you, that's fine," I reassured. Now that I had a closer look at the selection my mouth did begin to water. There were kiwis and plums and cherries and nectarines and tangerines and grapes and strawberries. I wanted to eat it all, but knew I could not.

I ate as much as I could while I listened to Nessie tell stories on Evan much to his chagrin, but at my forlorn expression at all the glorious fruit that still remained, Evan consoled, "Jake may have a preference for meat and potato type diet, but I assure that the food here will not go to waste. The man's stomach is a virtual vacuum." He seemed amused at my abhorrence for the extravagance that was done on my behalf.

I decided to use his previous distraction on him and directed the conversation back to the water heater, "You know, I recall my mom dealing with an architect who had a similar problem as you seem to have. He was constantly changing his design in order to please his client on where the best place to put some contraption, as in having it be both functional and aesthetically pleasing, and my mom suggested this." I began to draw on my napkin with the pen that had been conveniently lying on the table, outlining my idea. I remembered it so well because my mom had several hysterical meltdowns after the umpteenth time the architect requested she make yet another model because of the client's dissatisfaction.

My attempt succeeded this time, and for the rest of the day we discussed the possibilities that my idea opened up for him and Esme. Well, really, Evan talked as he became enthralled with all the possibilities this opened up. His mind raced faster than I could keep up with, yet he endearingly tried to include me. And while I may not have understood him, his enthusiasm was contagious, so I played along and time flew by so fast that I didn't even realize that it was dinner time until Evan once again called our day to a halt.

"I should get you home so your dad doe s not begin to worry."

"Oh, yeah, that's probably smart," I brea thed, amazed at how absorbed I h a d b e c o m e .

The drive home was silent for the most p art, but as we crossed the bridge that was ab out ten minutes from my house, I stated, "I like your family. Thank you very much for taking me to see them."

"No proble m," he replied then looked over at me with a lopsided grin, "You didn't too bad yourself. Everyone that counts liked you too."

"Does that include Jasper?" I asked trying not to get my hopes up. I hated to be a source of contention between him and his friend.

"You impre ssed him with your discretion concerning something as small as a family recipe an d . . . your discretion with your conversation with Jake."

"He was listening to that?! How much did he hear?" I nearly shrieked in my panic. I said things t o Jacob because he was easy to talk to but were kind of embarrassing now that I knew the aloof and emotion sensitive Jasper had heard and might have told Evan.

"Relax. Of course, he eavesdropped. He wanted to know if you were trustwo rthy. And I don't know how much he heard, since all he told me was that you didn't mention what I told you about Jake and Nessie to even Jake," he soothed.

"You told him that? You set that whole thing up?" I accused feeling slightly manipulated. "What if I failed your little test? What then?"

He stopped the truck at that end of my driveway a nd turned to face me, his expression confident, "But you didn't."

"But what if I did?"

His eyes got impos sibly more golden warm and he said softly, "There were no worries. I had faith in you."

I melted at that, ge tting that gooey mushy feeling throughout my whole body. I simply stared at him with no reply, no quick retort; I was thoroughly disarmed.

He leaned forward then and carefully tucked a wayward strand of hair behind my ear, but his hand stayed there with his thumb lightly caressing my cheek, whispering, "Am I forgiven?"

I leaned into it a lit tle so that his cold hand was cupping my cheek and sighed in contentment, "Mhmm."

He inhaled sharply, withdrawing his hand. "I'd better let you go in now, unless you want to do a second round of meeting the parents?"

"Uh no," I said as I hastily checked over my shoulder to see if Ian was watching. There was a slight movement at the curtains, so I decided it was best not to linger any longer and go do damage control. "S ee you Monday?"

He nodded, and I g ot out and raced towards the house. I expected him to leave as soon as I was a safe distance away, but no, he waited until I was in the house before he left. It was a gentlemanly thing t o do, but unfortunately gave Ian more time to examine the vehicle and identify the owner. A task which he managed to do correctly.

Ian's first words to me were, "So _that boy_ that has been living with the Cullens is your new friend, huh?"

I decided to play it cool, "Yeah, Dad, didn't I tell you?"

"No, you didn't, you ng lady," was his accusatory retort.

"Must have slipped my mind," I stated nonchalantly as possible, "but before you get all up into arms that this potential ruffian and scoundrel whose parentage is highly quest ionable," (I quo t e d the local bid dies' goss i p ), "is corrupting your daughter, all we did today was visit with his family."

"Really?" he asked obviously not believing me. I was a little bit hurt by that, but after all this was the sec ond weekend in a row that I had avoided telling him who exactly I was with.

I decided to give him some details that would mollify him, "Yeah, I met Dr. Cullen and Nessie again. Nessi e and _Evan Keegan_ are good friends with Jacob Black. You know the big guy that works for Old Tink? And I finally met Esme. She's really nice. They went to the grocery store and majorly s tocked up on fruit when they found out I was a vegetarian. They're house is gorgeous by the way. They've done some considerable updating and improvements."

My prattling must have worked, because he asked his next question with a bit more mellowness, "So are you going to be continuing to hang out with him?"

I had a brilliant moment of genius and replied, "Yeah, he plays both the violin and ce llo beautifully, and he's offered to teach me for free. You know how much I've always wanted to learn at least one of those."

This seemed to have w orked to convince him that it was an innocent enough relationship because he said, "Oh, that's good," but then his voice and face become stern, "but while you are having these lessons, y ou are not to be alone at the house with him."

I laughed, "No worries, Dad. There is always someone around at the house."

"Good then," was his gr uff reply, but then he said, "Matthews called. He said he couldn't get a hold of you on your cell phone. Not surprising since reception is poor out here. Anyways, I took a message for you. It's on the counter."

I went into the kitchen t o look. It said in Ian's less than legible handwriting, "Call Tyrone after dinner. Kids in bed then."

It was so ominous soun ding that I wanted to pick up the phone right then, but I respected his wishes and choose instead to heat up some leftovers for Ian and me.

All I did was pick at it th ough, and as soon as I thought the kids would be out for the night, I called.

When he picked up, I sa id, "Hey Tyrone, it's me, Cadie. What's up?" I crossed my fingers hoping for good news.

No such luck. "Hey Cadie , I've got some bad news. Apparently, it's taken the officials a few weeks to catch up with me because of my move, but a few weeks ago, Vanessa and a few others escaped while be ing transported from a provincial prison to federal."

"Oh my, she hasn't tried to come for the kids, has she?"

"No, but I thought you'd want to know. I don't see why she might want to contact you, but if she does, you call me so that I can alert the correct authorities, alright?"

"Sure, sure, no problem. She hasn't contacted me at all that I'm aware of."

"Good," he sighed. "I've l et everyone on my end know, the kids' teachers, the neighbors, the parents of their new friends, just so that they are on the alert, just in case."

I remained silent unsure of what to say.

"Cadie, thanks for all you 've done. I don't mean to add to your burden, but if you could keep us in your prayers, it would be appreciated."

"Of course, I will," I reass ured. "Uh, do the kids know?"

He sighed again, "Yeah, I explained it to them. They know that they are to raise one hell of a fuss if they see her and not to go anywhere with her even if she tells them that I'm hurt and that she's taking them to see me."

"Good plan," I affirmed. T he conversation didn't last long after that, thankfully. I was exhausted after my emotionally trying, but fun day, and this bit of news just drained me of my reserves.

I headed off to bed, forcing my thoughts to dwell on the good parts of the day so that my dreams would be free of Vanessa-filled nightmares.

I fell aslee p smiling at the irony that I found comfort in thinking about vampires and werewolves (shape shifters, I corrected) to escape from my worries about something as commonplace as a pathe tic drun k .

* * *

**AN: **Wow, that was fun. I hope you enjoyed the little Cadie and Jake interlude. ; )

Next Chapter - Drama


	25. Chapter 24 Drama

Chapter 24 – Drama

I was late to school Monday morning due to once again a late night phone call from my mother. Ian must have been more suspicious than I thought about my day long absences with the no-name friend because I spent the majority of the call fielding questions about boys, possible crushes, and what I did for fun these days rather than listening to her latest and greatest drama.

Being late is the only excuse I could come up with for being blindsided by the subject of prom after English by Emilee. I should have seen the garish posters.

"You're going to prom, right? You're not going to ditch again?" She asked as if it was a personal offence to her that I didn't go last time. I didn't know why since my not going gave me a perfect excuse not to accept her boy-crush's invite, but whatev.

I had no idea what my answer should be to the first one, so I latched on to the second. "I didn't _ditch_ last time. I had family business to attend to."

"Sure, you did. And that family business just happened to include Regan," she sneered just as she was walking into her biology class.

What the hell was her problem?

I decided not to waste my energies on that and instead focus on how I was going to answer her original question, since someone else was bound to ask me. The problem was I knew what I wanted to do, what I would have done if I had been back in Quebec along with all my friends. We would have gone in the most ridiculous outfits ranging from _Adams Family_'s Morticia style to _Gone with the Wind_'s curtain ensemble and the Joker's custom made purple monstrosity to Hancock's unshaven bum panache, taking pictures the whole time before blowing it off and going to Ashley's house to watch some cheesy horror film about prom gone gorily wrong. Correction: _They_ would be watching it while I edited everyone's photos.

The problem was that my plan B involved Evan, but I didn't know if he still wanted to keep it low-key or not. And even if we made known our friendship status, if he would even want to ask me.

I decided until I knew the answer to that question that I was going to sit with Maggie and her crowd avoiding further contact with Emilee's foul mood and Max's probable date request. Regan sat with us, and apparently, her view on the subject was quite well known so nobody brought it up.

Evan did though.

"So are you going to prom at all?" His eyes danced with unfathomable glee.

"Uh… I don't know. You?" was my informative and elegant reply.

"No, I don't go to dances," he responded a little bit abruptly, causing me to examine his face for signs of pain, but he still had that odd merry air about him that I could not comprehend.

"Oh," was all I said though. I was slightly disappointed. It would have been fun to see him dance. He could probably do it old school and that would have been far more enjoyable than the current style. At least that was the reason I allowed myself to acknowledge. I mean, we were just friends, new ones at that, so I couldn't exactly ask him to get over his aversion to these "archaic customs" just for me, now could I? Especially, not since I now knew the reason for it.

"I suppose, you want to know why I asked." It was more statement than question, but I nodded anyways. "Well, I wanted to know if you had an escape route planned like you did for the Valentine's Day dance."

"Not currently, but I'm working on it. Why? What do you know?" I asked anxiously and suspiciously. He was having way too much fun dragging this out.

"Edward told me something very interesting at lunch…" (If I hadn't been afraid for my foot, I would have kicked him by now.) "Aaron seems bent on asking you again. The only reason he hasn't done so yet is because he can't decide on the most appropriate of methods; and by appropriate, _I think_, he means that which appeals to his dramatic flair." His smug grin was so irritating, but not as aggravating as the information that he just divulged.

I groaned. "Do you think it's because he sees me as a challenge? Or is it out of guilt for nearly causing my death? Or is it because he made another bet with one of his locker room buddies?"

This last one wiped the grin off his face, "You heard about that?"

"Yeah," I shrugged, "Tiffany made sure to tell me."

His face became so angry and it looked as if he was muttering curses under his breath but they were so fast I couldn't distinguish them that I rushed to tell him, "That didn't bother me really. It would just be nice if I could figure out what drives him to ask so that I can make him stop."

I thought for a while about the possible consequences if he were to ask me yet again instead of a certain someone else, and I shuddered before getting yet another brilliant idea. I looked up underneath my eyelashes and pleaded, "Do you think you could work your magic for my benefit?"

He laughed, "Nope, not only would that be unethical, but it would also deprive me of my fun."

I scowled at him, "So it's okay for you to use your gift for your own purposes but not to help out a friend?"

He grimaced, "Your life is not in danger, so no."

I looked away and mumbled, "Says you."

So as not to arouse Ms. Girard's wrath at our lack of discussion, I broke the silence and asked, "Do you think if I straight up and told him that I know of his plans and that the answer is no that he'll leave off? I mean, of course, I would blame my knowledge on the rumor mill. But do you think it would work?"

"Maybe, but I would still have a backup plan, just in case," he acceded.

The next day, I had yet to accomplish my goal before I was pounced upon by Emilee again, although it was not for the exact same reason as yesterday.

"Are you going to prom with Evan Keegan?" she accused more than questioned.

"Um, no…he doesn't go to dances. You said so yourself. Why?" _Merde. Merde. Merde._

"Well, Genevieve told me that she heard from her mom, who heard it from either my mom or Tiffany's mom, who heard it from their hairstylist who heard it from your very own father that you've been hanging out with him an awful lot lately. I thought we were friends!"

It took me a minute to figure out why Ian would have told the queen of the gossips about my personal life when he has spent most of his life at least since puberty avoiding that woman, when I realized that he had gone yesterday to talk to Old Tink. Her car was being worked on according to Zach and they must have been talking within her earshot, while she was in the shop. Not that any of that mattered, at the moment I had bigger issues.

"Of course, you are my friend," I affirmed. "It's just that Evan is a private person, and he didn't want there to be a whole lot of gossip," and before she could ask me what we did these past few weekends and what my feelings were for this gorgeous enigma, I said, "For your information, and you are the first to hear of this, Evan and I have formed a kind of friendship."

She looked pleased at being the first to be told, amazed that I had gotten around his aloofness, and disappointed that it wasn't juicier. "What changed? You two weren't very fond of each other a few weeks ago."

I shrugged before making my way into chemistry class, "I called him out on his crap, and he just sort of let me in. He's a decent guy once you get to know him."

At lunch I was still avoiding Max and now Genevieve's pointed questions that she had bombarded me with throughout history (Emilee must have relayed to her what I said) so I sat again with Maggie's crowd. I also wanted to talk to Regan and see if she could help bail me out of this dance as well. As luck would have it the seat next to her was available.

"So the most often repeated question of the past two days: are you - ?"

"No," she interrupted morosely, "I'm not. I have to baby sit my sister's brats that weekend unless I can hunt up a date. I would just go stag to get out of it, but my mom says that she's not cancelling her plans unless it's because I'm actually on a date."

"Oh, isn't there anyone that you could ask?" I would have offered to baby sit in her place, but I had heard too many horror stories from Regan's mouth to even consider that as a viable option. My sanity was much too important to me.

"Not without making it awkward."

I looked around the table at this searching for someone else to be my escape route, when my eyes settled on someone, a someone who I had made a promise to myself about. I had yet another idea. It wasn't exactly a stroke of genius, but it was certainly unconventional. I turned back to Regan and whispered my radical plan. She took to it as a drowning woman to a thrown life raft.

Later when we talked it over with Maggie and Dani, they decided to join in on our fun making the plan truly outrageous.

By Thursday my escape route was confirmed, so I approached Aaron after school just before he went and got ready for track practice.

"Hey Aaron, can I talk to you for a minute?" I asked, trying to ignore the openly curious stares and blatant once-overs that I was getting from his teammates.

"Sure," he agreed and then to his friends, "I'll be there in a few."

I was grateful that he sensed that I wanted to speak in private, so I started off a little easier than I intended, "I, uh, heard from the rumor mill that you intend to ask me out for prom. Is that true?"

He was a little shocked by that, but he didn't ask me who exactly told me. Instead, he answered, "Yeah, that's true. I was going to ask you properly, but since you brought it up, do you want to go with me?"

I shook my head no, "The reason I brought it up was because I wanted to save you the money on your 'proper' invite - "

"Who are you going with?" he interrupted. "It has to be that Keegan guy."

I was a little irritated at his rudeness, but more amused at his obviously over-inflated ego. He conceitedly assumed that the only reason I was turning him down was because I had already agreed to go with the handsomest and most mysterious bachelor on campus. All I said though was, "It's none of your business, but if I was you I would make sure that the girl you do officially end up asking thinks that she is your first choice." I left him with that, sincerely hoping that he took me up on my advice.

* * *

I was unsure of how to proceed exactly, now that I had my family's approval. I continued our friendly chats in French class, asking her questions and occasionally answering a few of her own. I didn't want to monopolize her time at school, although I was tempted, because I felt she should have some balance. I wanted to avoid a Bella-Edward situation, one in which the happiness of one depended entirely on the presence of the other. Therefore, I made sure that she understood that I was unavailable as a prom date. My excuse was not a lie. I never went to dances; they were too filled with happy couples for my tastes. It would have been fun to go with Cadie this one time, but I refused to give anyone the impression, including myself, that we were one of those couples as well.

However, despite my desire to avoid making her an obsession, I still followed her home from school and watched over her at night. Whoever had broken into her house was still out there. I still watched her avidly at school as she interacted with all of her friends.

I saw that the prom situation distressed her greatly. I saw that her usual lunch friends were not overly pleased with her when they found out about us. I saw that her chemistry friends welcomed her with open arms and were able to contain their curiosity concerning the rumors about her and me that were now spreading about the town. They respected her privacy.

I saw that she handled the situation with Aaron quite skillfully in that he was no longer going to pursue her. However, I also saw that his pride was wounded and that he had now jumped on the bandwagon with his number 1 fan and joined in on giving her the cold shoulder when she did rejoin their table on Friday.

I saw that she did not handle well the situation with the Cortland boy by avoiding him because although he asked one of Cadie's other friends to go with him to prom, he continued to look at her with sad orphan puppy dog eyes.

I continued my passive surveillance even when she went on a shopping trip for dresses with her lunch girl friends. I saw that she was on better terms with Ms. Graham, but not the other two.

By Tuesday, I saw that the hostility was not going to decrease with time, but the gossip about us had. I decided then that it couldn't hurt a little to adjust the routine. If some of her companions failed her, then it would only be natural for a friend to give her a little more emotional support. I decided to walk with her to a few of her classes, starting with whatever class was after chemistry.

She was wishing her reporter friend good luck on her next piece concerning something about archaic customs when I pushed off the wall and walked towards her. She looked up and smiled at me pleased, but then she stopped walking and began to look around us a little uncertain, causing me to laugh. "I think, everyone knows that we talk to each other outside of class now, thanks to your dad."

"Yeah, oops," she ducked her head and adjusted her bag causing her hair to fall in front of her face. She grabbed at it exasperatedly and pulled it back; waffling between irritation and sheepishness, she said, "I told Ian that you were alright, that you were friends with Jacob, and that if he wanted to double check he could talk with Old Tink. Apparently, he took me up on that but did so in the hearing range of the biggest rumormonger in town."

"No hard feelings," I reassured as I opened the door into the social science building for her, "I was meaning to ask you …how did your shopping trip go?"

She half-smiled, half-grimaced, "It went good as far as that I got a dress, but I don't know…" she hedged, "shopping just isn't my thing, clothes shopping that is."

"No," I smiled, "your kind of shopping would be at a paint store or an old dusty bookshop, wouldn't it?"

She smiled at me again just before she went into her classroom, "You're catching on, Mr. Keegan."

I decided that I would also walk with her from French class to the gym along with her friend Maggie. After all, friends hang out with the other's friends. I greeted her with "Hey Maggie. It is Maggie, right?" When she nodded, I continued, "So you haven't by any chance seen or heard a description of what Ms. Darby's dress is for the big social event of the season, have you?"

The girl was awed but managed to keep her cool, probably due to the fact that Cadie had jabbed her with her elbow, was vigorously shaking her head no, and mouthing death threats if she divulged anything. "Uh…er…no, I haven't seen it, but I'm sure we'll all be dazzled on the night of."

"Pity, I, sadly, won't be among that number. I'll be out of town that weekend."

Maggie looked disappointed, probably hoping to see the two of us out on the dance floor, but Cadie looked slightly amused. I soon found out why. "Oh, that's too bad. Is it a sick uncle maybe?" Ah, she was waiting to see what unimaginative excuse that I would present this time.

"Um, no, my uncle signed over his guardianship to the Cullens a few years back," I reminded her of my cover story, making her friend feel a little awkward, "but Carlisle wants me to go to his alma mater's preview day. Apparently, their reputation is not limited to its pre-med program but also includes architecture and engineering."

At the same time as her friend was saying that it was a pity that it had to be the same weekend, Cadie replied with mock admiration, "I'm impressed; that's so responsible," just as she headed off to the girls' locker room.

The rest of the week and the next was pretty much like that except for the two days that I had to avoid being out in the sun in public. I took advantage of that time to go hunting with Jasper and Alice again, leaving her under the protective vigil of one Jacob Black.

Lucky for him, not one hair of her head was touched, literally or figuratively, or so I thought.

* * *

**AN: **So sorry for the delay in updating.

Next chapter - My Black Lion


	26. Chapter 25 My Black Lion

Chapter 25 – My Black Lion

Out of the desire to humor Evan's over-protective streak, I hung out at Old Tink's shop later than usual under the watchful eye of Jacob and even let him follow me home. But this was going too far.

"He does what?!" I shrieked in a half-whisper.

Jacob began to squirm as if he knew he had said too much, but replied, "Don't get your panties in a twist. He only runs a perimeter and sits outside your window. He doesn't go in at all."

"He better not!"

He rolled his eyes at my theatrics, "He's only trying to protect you. In his eyes, you are awfully breakable. And his concern is valid, since apparently you have someone gunning for you."

"Yes, but…" I started to protest before a new thought occurred to me. "You don't sit up in that tree all night too, do you?" I looked at him warily.

"No, no! I just run the perimeter and check for suspicious smells. I'm no Tarzan," He laughingly reassured.

I hesitated and then sighed; resigned to the fact that I could do nothing about the situation now. "Well, if you can't come in for dessert upon the pain of losing Cullen house privileges, then would you like me to leave you some out by the shed?" I asked returning the original conversation that had led to his divulging Evan's secret.

He smiled his amusement and thanks and said his characteristic, "Sure, sure."

I headed into the house, mentally reminding myself to make sure that the curtains were closed in my bedroom from here on out.

In the morning, I woke up for once in a cheerful mood. It was Friday, Evan would be back, and after tomorrow the Archaic Custom would be over. I would be out thirty bucks or so this evening when I went to pick up my dress for its alterations, but other than that life was good at the moment.

My day went pretty much as expected. I stalwartly insisted that Evan not continue his guardian angel activities every chance I saw him, and he stubbornly refused, each time with his impish grin. I knew it was a lost cause already because I had nothing to dissuade him with, but it was the principle of the thing.

The only thing that gave me pause for concern was when Maggie informed me on the way to Gym that Regan had heard that the alterations and dry cleaning shop had been vandalized the night before.

"Really?" I asked pausing mid-step.

"Yeah," she bobbed her head. "Why? Do you have something there?"

"Only my dress for tomorrow," I stated.

"Oh dear," she replied, but then hastily reassured, "I'm sure, it's fine. I heard there was only minimal damage done."

I nodded, sneaking a glance at Evan who had so far walked silently along with us. He seemed lost in thought, but then again who knew how fast a vampire's brain processed?

Maggie continued her musings, a little less optimistically this time, "But just in case, do you have a second dress?"

"No," I answered dismally, "and I can't go out and get one tonight either that would fit me." I had this annoying dilemma of being bigger busted than the rail thin anorexics that today's dresses were designed for but also unable to fill in the bust designed for those who actually have boobs; thus, I always needed to have alterations made.

"Well, that's the pits. If you don't have a dress, then you're gonna bail on us, and that will be no fun for the rest of us. Plus, it will ruin the symmetry." She moaned.

I was comforted by the fact that my absence would upset her so much, but it did nothing for the fact that if my dress was ruined I would be out of more money than my penny-pinching self was comfortable with.

After Gym Evan approached me as I made my way to my Hearse. "Can I come with you to check on the condition of your dress?" he asked me solemnly.

Great, he was listening, and this latest incident has only added fuel to the fire of his paranoia. To lighten the mood, particularly mine, I teased as I slid into the driver's seat, "Sure, but that doesn't mean you get to see my dress." It got a little smile out of him.

He slid into the passenger seat looking around the interior and asked, "How fast does this thing go?"

"Fast enough," I shrugged. He rolled his eyes and began rifling through my CDs finally settling on my Dean Martin and big band mix. We rode in silence except for the music.

When I pulled into the parking lot, I was not met with the most comforting sight. A police car waited out front. When I got inside I soon discovered, that the police officer was waiting for me.

"Are you Cadence Darby?" he asked.

I nodded my head, not bothering to correct him on my first name, while I looked over his shoulder to observe Mrs. Garrison's nervous twisting and wringing of the cloth in her hand. She looked very frazzled.

"Do you know why yours was the only dress that was destroyed?" the officer asked, obviously not happy that he was put on this case.

I shook my head no, and looked to Mrs. Garrison for confirmation. She nodded and said, "I'm so sorry. I won't be charging you."

"That's okay, Mrs. Garrison, but can I at least see it?" I hesitated to ask, but I wanted to see the end results of someone's petty viciousness.

"We took it in for evidence, Miss," the officer replied impassively.

"Oh," I stated, now trying to find a way to graciously exit out of this awkward situation, but Evan cut in, "Whoever did this is probably the same person who vandalized her bedroom a few weeks back. Have you made any headway on that?"

He replied in the negative and then began to question Evan on who he was but "mysteriously" cut off that line of questioning and bade us a good day. Handy, that little talent of his.

"Don't worry about a dress. I'm sure, Alice can find you something in a jiffy," he informed me. "Are you doing anything tomorrow morning?"

"No," I replied a little bewildered at this line of questioning.

"Good, then I'll pick you up bright and early tomorrow."

I took my eyes off the road long enough to look at him apprehensively, "How early?"

His mood began to improve greatly as he thought about that, saying, "Oh, I'll let that be up to you and Alice."

"I'm grateful that you are willing to volunteer your family's time and services on my behalf and in order to satisfy your chivalrous impulses, but you really don't need to do all this," I protested.

It fell on selectively deaf ears. "Alice won't mind. She enjoys this kind of thing. Besides, we wouldn't want to throw off the symmetry, now would we?" This last part was asked with one eyebrow raised and a mischievous glint in his eye and a matching twitch at the corner of his mouth. Selectively deaf ears, indeed; the guy picked up on the oddest things.

The rest of the way home, I rehearsed what I was going to say to Ian to minimize his hysterics, but no matter how I phrased it, it sounded bad. I was scared. I wasn't scared now, because I was with Evan, but I knew as soon as I went inside, the panic would make itself known. It was a small comfort that I now knew that he would be out there looking out for me, but I wanted him inside holding my hand or doing his hair-tucking thing.

He had me pull to the side a few yards from my driveway so he could get out without Ian seeing him. Just as he was leaving, I asked in a half-whisper, "Do you have to be outside my house all night?"

His face hardened, "Yes, Cadie, I do. Now more than ever."

"I know that," I rolled my eyes, "I just meant that if I opened my window tonight would come in for a little bit, at least until I fell asleep?" My voice lowered dramatically as I made this embarrassing, because of its neediness, request.

He heard it, of course, and his face softened as he reached over and tucked an errant lock of my hair behind my ear, saying softly, "As you wish."

I nodded but turned my face away from the intensity of his gaze. As soon as he shut the door, I pulled forward and turned into my driveway.

Ian's hysterics weren't as bad as I thought they were going to be. I guess, this was the case because I was uninjured and his home wasn't the one broken into. Nevertheless, it was a very quiet dinner while he had an internal debate about either whether or not he should tell my mother or whether or not he should send me packing. If he would ask me, my vote would be not for both. The silence was only interrupted by him asking me if I was still going to the dance tomorrow now that I no longer had a dress. I told him that Alice might have one for me, and that I was expecting a call from her that very evening about it. He nodded and resumed eating and his mental dialogue.

Alice did eventually call me, but not before my mystery caller.

I was washing the dishes, and Ian was in his office when the phone rang. Thinking it might be Alice, I picked it up. All I heard was the breathing.

This made me mad. I was sick of being harassed so I bit out, "I don't know who you are, nor do I care to. You must live a very pathetic life if you stoop to pulling stunts like this." I would have followed that with a few choice descriptions of their parentage, but I didn't want whoever it was to know how badly they got to me.

The breathing continued, a little harsher and heavier, before they hung up.

I set the phone down, returned to the dishes and finished them, and then raced up the stairs to my room. I shut the door and locked it, leaning against it heavily, trying to calm the racing of my heart. When I knew I wasn't going to faint or cry, I went to the window and opened it, calling uncertainly, "Evan?"

He appeared out of the gloom and into my room causing me to jump a little, but as soon as he shut the window again, I threw myself at him forcing him to wrap his arms around me so that I wouldn't bounce off of him and flat on my back. When I didn't let go, his arms tightened and he asked me, "What's wrong?"

I told him and in the middle of my explanation my voice cracked and I began to shake. He picked me up and walked over to the bed; once he was situated and had me in his lap, he began to rock me and run his hand soothingly from the top of my head to my back over and over again. We stayed like that until Ian called me down to the phone where Alice told me she wanted me there at 9am.

I told Ian afterwards that I was going to bed. When I got up to my room, Evan asked, "Do you want me to stay?"

I nodded yes and offered him the use of my Mac or my limited library while I took a shower and did other normal human things. I rushed through what is usually for me a therapeutic routine because I was worried that he would not be there when I was done if I took too long.

My fears were unsubstantiated. He was there, in all his leonine glory. He was reading _The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe_, of all things. I took strange comfort from that because it occurred to me then that maybe I hadn't fallen through a rabbit hole where queens were threatening to off my head, maybe I had fallen through a wardrobe. I decided that this must be the case because although I had some obsessive psycho after me, I also had a champion, and knowing what I knew, I believed that my lion would win this round too.

I got back on the bed and slid under the covers asking him to read to me. He did so, and I drifted to sleep hearing of the adventures of the Pevensies in a land where myths were reality.

* * *

**AN: **Oh goodness, after editing this chapter, I nearly gagged at the ending. I'm sorry it's so cheesy, but at the same time my Muse refused to let me omit this.

Anywho, let me know what you thought, if you so kindly could : )

You can even describe your own gag reflexes and we shall commiserate together...Misery loves company.


	27. Chapter 26 Primping and Pimping

Chapter 26 – Primping and Pimping

The guy wasn't kidding when he said Alice enjoyed this kind of thing. I had decided within the first ten minutes of walking in the door that I would no longer call her Tiny Tink. She was now to be called the Sadistic Fairy Godmother. She had impeccable taste, but she was way too excited about making me her new pet project. And _way_ too chirpy for this early on a Saturday morning.

"It would have been so much easier if Evan had just brought you over here last night," Alice said as she finished sticking the last of the pins into the dress that she had apparently begun designing since Thursday night.

"I had to tell Ian everything and deal with his reaction last night," I explained once again. Esme and Nessie had said the same thing earlier. When I got there, I had been greeted by Alice and shanghaied up to her room to be babysat by Nessie while her and Esme continued looking for the right material, and then Alice and Nessie discussed the design of the dress as I stood in the middle of the room on a pedestal while Esme had me trying on heels of various styles. Bella checked in on me on occasion and gave sympathetic glances, but never stayed very long.

"If you could carefully step out of that dress, Cadie, we could begin on what we should have started on hour ago," Alice requested/decreed. I rolled my eyes. She was acting as if this dance was going to be televised nationally. I didn't even have a real date; it was just going to be a group of friends.

Nessie softly giggled and then leaned over to whisper as Alice was relaying instructions to Esme too fast for me to catch, "Don't mind Alice. She was just so excited to get a new person to dress up when she got her vision the other night, and now you're proving to be a little too much like my mother."

I paused to think about my attitude and realized that I was being an ungrateful brat, especially since she was so willing to help me out, the Intruder. I looked at Nessie and smiled a little whispering, "I am grudgingly submitting to her in her area of expertise, aren't I? It's just that I am somewhat of a control-freak and so much of my life is out of control right now…"

Nessie leaned forward as my explanation drifted off and stroked my hair, separating it into different sections, "That's understandable. But you know, she'll do a really good job. She always does. And next time, I'll insist that you are in on the decision-making process."

"Next time? You think I'll be needing her assistance again?" I pulled away from her jerkily. Luckily she saw it coming and let go of my hair in time.

She grabbed a brush and began smoothing out my now snarled strands of hair, "Of course, there will be a next time. Not for the same reasons, hopefully, but Alice will find some occasion that will require an all-girl day session. You are family now." She laughed her irresistible laugh causing me to smile despite the emotional significance of her words. Nessie and possibly Alice now considered me part of the family. I felt like Lucy Moderatz, ticket seller for the Chicago elevated railway.

I spent the next few hours getting pampered and primped to Alice's idea of perfection or near enough to it for someone who is mediocre in their normalness. I did get a say in how my nails were done. I insisted on a French manicure. My hair was curled and piled on top of my head with a few strategically loose strands (I was breathing hairspray fumes for ten minutes in order for my unruly hair to bow to even Alice's will). I was wearing silver dangly earrings, and I knew I was to wear strappy silver heels to match. I did not know what my dress looked like. Nessie wanted me to wait until I was in it before she would let Alice and Esme show off what she called "their masterpiece."

When I did see it, I concurred. Alice could rival any of the fashion designers in New York or Paris. It was a sage green color, sort of. The straps and the bust were made of sage green lace that had intermittent gold and silver and possibly purple interwoven in it as well as silver beads that matched the earrings. The straps and bust together formed a heart-shaped neckline; the most flattering for my figure and face. The body of the dress flowed out from the beaded empire waistline that separated the two sections. It was made of sage green chiffon and had a jagged hem that was a bit longer in the back, going to mid-calf length, and in the front, the highest point was knee-length.

"It brings out the color in your eyes," Nessie commented.

I nodded, for indeed, it did; instead of the usual murky green, they were a vivid jade green, nicely accented by the glamorous eye shadow applied by Nessie.

Alice looked pleased with her work, but merely said, "If you want to meet with your friends like you intended, you better go down and have Evan take you there now."

I nodded again, but my heart started to race for all to hear. I grabbed my clutch that Alice had approved of and made my way to the spiral stairs by the door trying not to trip up in the killer heels.

Edward must have signaled Evan that I was ready to go because he met me at the bottom of the stairs. I would have liked to have seen his initial reaction, but like I said, I was concentrating too hard on my feet. When I got to the bottom though, I was not disappointed.

He smiled appreciatively and breathed, "Beautiful."

I smiled back, "I know right?" I twisted a little in place so that the dress would flare out. "I might have to express my gratitude to whoever wreaked havoc on that poor purple store bought one."

He glowered at that, "That's not what I meant, and I sincerely hope you have no designs of speaking to whoever is threatening you, to thank them or otherwise."

I had no comment for the first part, but to the second I replied, "Well, no, I don't have any designs to speak to them in person, but there are other ways to communicate... over the phone or in a letter if one so desires to, not that I really desire to…"

I drifted off when I noticed his eye roll. We bade our good byes and then headed out the door. When we were pulling out of the driveway, I asked him, "So what are you and all of those who are not going to the dance planning on doing for the rest of the evening?"

He shrugged, "It's just like any other night. Jacob will be over making a nuisance of himself, corrupting the innocence of Nessie under the supervision of one of the 'adults.' Most likely this will be Esme, since Carlisle and I have plans to stargaze this evening."

"Oh, that's right. There is supposed to be a meteor shower tonight." I was a little disappointed that I would miss it, but then I realized Dani would most likely know to the precise second the phenomena would become visible for us and she would drag us out to watch.

"Are you going to finally let me in on the secret of your plans for the evening?" he prodded for the umpteenth time this week. He was disgruntled still that everyone in his family knew about my date arrangement tonight thanks to Edward and Nessie. Edward knew because he heard it from the minds of my cohorts; Nessie, from myself.

I shrugged, "I suppose. All I'm really doing is hanging out with a bunch of friends." I grinned mischievously at him then, "But we – as in me, Dani, Maggie, and Regan – are technically Jeff's date."

His mouth dropped open and he stammered out between laughs, "You are – making a – pimp – out of – Toombs?"

I smirked, "Yep, and just between you and me, I've been secretly calling him Mr. Freckles the Pimp."

He groaned at that, "I'm scarred for life, now."

"You wanted to know," I taunted.

"I wanted to know your plans, not your pet name for him," he protested just as he was pulling in the Stefano driveway.

I got out assuring the mother hen that I would have fun and be safe, knowing the whole time that he would have his family looking out for me tonight. It was so bizarre and surreal that I would be guarded by vampires at my junior prom. My life had become a cheesy teen horror movie that Ashley, Eddie, and I would have laughed at.

There was no blood and guts, so it was more like a teen drama if one ignored the fact that vampires were present and that I had a stalker. Our party entered a good fifteen minutes late because the Stefanos wanted a memory card full of pictures of the before event (the after event was going to be a sleepover at their house, most likely filled with a sci-fi marathon). Jeff was in the middle with me on his right arm and Regan on mine and with Dani on his left and Maggie on hers. He played his part very well with a fedora and movie star sunglasses, and thankfully, didn't trip us up once.

Our entrance caused quite a stir. Jason and his buddies looked impressed and amused by Jeff's seeming accomplishment. Emmett certainly was, as I could feel the reverberations of his laughter through the soles of my borrowed shoes. Aaron and Tiffany were definitely not, for different reasons I imagined because I could not fathom what hers was. Max and Emilee were astounded at first, but they at least got over it the quickest. Genevieve, on the other hand, immediately began whispering and all night she would send us the weirdest looks, particularly me.

Despite all this, we had fun. Dani did maneuver us out to watch the falling stars. We used up all of Regan's and Maggie's film, and we finished off the rest of ours at the after event. We did have a sci-fi marathon as I predicted which wasn't really all that difficult since the majority of this group was made up of geeks and nerds; it was inevitable really that they would want to assist in my education.

All in all, in spite of the vandalism and phone calls, it looked as if my experiment was experiencing some success.

* * *

The meteor shower was spectacular, not much of a distraction, but it was spectacular. Nevertheless, I had to reign in on my impulse to extract every detail of the night from my siblings. I had never before cared so much about a dance than I did about this one, not even when I interacted with the human world last time.

Last time, I merely resented that _she _had to spend so much time away from me with men who were far more eligible than I. This time, however, I had to worry about Cadie's very safety. There was the threat of the unknown saboteur and stalker; I could protect her from that with my family, but I also had to worry about the threat of there being bloodshed and her protectors turning on the protected.

This time, I also wanted to be there to see if she enjoyed herself. I wanted to see her blush in pleased embarrassment at her friends' compliments, and if she would praise Alice's craftsmanship like she did with me, instead of just accepting the admiration of her personage. I wanted to see her eyes flash with mischief as she watched people's reactions to their dramatic and outrageous entrance. I wanted to see her laugh at whatever idiotic joke one of her friends told or at whatever ridiculous dance move they made or attempted to make.

Fortunately, I had Nessie there to ask everyone all my questions.

"So how was it? Did you have a good time? Did Cadie have a good time?" She asked as danced her way from the family room, in which she and Jacob had been watching some late night movie.

The last question caused Emmett to laugh boisterously and launch into the tale of their grand entrance just before he was drug up the stairs by Rosalie. Alice shared a few more anecdotes in her usual cheery manner but then exchanged a more somber look with Edward, causing me to blurt out, "What?"

"Well," Edward replied, "I know who has a vendetta against Cadie."

* * *

**AN: **Oh, who could it be? I've already had one person guess...Any others?


	28. Chapter 27 The Lull

Chapter 27 – The Lull 

"Tiffany?!" I hissed in amazement. I knew she was petty, but I didn't think she had any cause to hate me enough to harass me this much, nor did I think she had the nerve to commit such acts.

Evan nodded but corrected, "and Genevieve." I was not surprised at this because if Tiffany had the will to do such a thing, then her little disciple would too.

Evan pushed away from the library bookshelf that he had been leaning against during this little tête-à-tête and continued, "I have 'convinced' them that they no longer need to do anything else to express their hatred for you, but to be on the safe side would you please not eat lunch with your usual crowd?"

"Yes," I replied absentmindedly, trying to understand why I didn't feel the proper amount of fear that he was expecting. I mean, if those two got up enough nerve to commit the crime of breaking and entering, not once but twice, and vandalized my property and made creepy threatening phone calls, then what else can they work themselves up to?

This overly dramatic thought caused me to laugh a little and smile at Evan, "Well, now we know that it's only two Prom Queen Wannabes from Hell who are after me, I'm sure we will be able to take the proper precautions."

"So rest easy, my friend, I will be spending the next few days looking at pictures and listening to Regan's critique of the event or whatever she deems worthy to discuss in this week's edition." I ignored his exasperated sigh at my cavalier attitude, smiled, and made my way into my history class.

Although he might have thought I wasn't taking this seriously, I was - at least to the point that I changed my seat so that I was on the other side of Maggie. I now had Bubba's younger, more muscular, and tuba-playing brother between me and them. I also did as he asked and switched lunch tables, and during gym class I vacillated between Max and Maggie as my archery buddy depending on how close their target was to the Killer Queens. (Maggie was probably just as detrimental to my health as the other two considering her lack of coordination and proximity to pointy objects, but she was by far the more amusing of the two.)

My after school routine continued to be me hanging out at the garage with Zach and under the watchful eye of Jacob, unless, of course, Old Tink chased me out because I was distracting him and his workers. In this case I would go out and lay on the hood of the Hearse with Nessie who had also made a habit of making a pest of herself at the Tinker Shop. We would sit out there for hours talking about this and that. One of our memorable conversations centered around Evan's first days with the Cullen Clan.

"Alice told us that he was coming and that he was seeking for others like him, so we were prepared. He was not. Apparently, Peter and Charlotte decided that it would be easier for him to see for himself rather than having to wade through their guarded and confused descriptions of us. He didn't quite know how to take us," she smiled at her memory of what I'm sure was a highly interesting reaction on his part, but then her expression saddened and filled with regret. "He especially didn't know how to take me. I looked to be about three or four at that time."

She turned her head a little and looked at me with eyes that pooled with sorrow that made me want to cry. "You see, the girl he had been in love with rejected him because he could not give her children, and there I was, living proof that he could have done that if they had known and chosen the path my parents did."

I squeezed her hand and interjected softly, "He told me, but he also said that you were 'impossible not to love.'"

This earned a cheeky smile and she commented, "Yes, I do seem to have that effect on people." I rolled my eyes at this, but she ignored me and continued, "Esme was the one who got him to open up first. No one can stay wrapped up in their stony grief for long with her gentle persuasion. After he introduced himself and explained why he was there, she stepped forward and made introductions, which was followed by a tour of the house that ended in the room that was prepared for him. That's when he discovered Alice's little gift. He was freaked," she chuckled. "Anyways, she got him to open up about himself enough to learn that they shared a passion for architecture and they formed an immediate and special bond."

"Everyone else, it was slow going. He was such a grouchy, moody individual. He drove Rosalie insane, purposely picking fights with her. Carlisle called him out on it, and they had a little manly powwow. Ever since then though, he has gone to Carlisle for guidance. He says that he is taking full advantage of finally having a father-figure, which he used to have in abundance with all his older brothers and brother-in-laws."

"What about with Jasper?" I queried.

"Evan gravitated towards Jasper because aside from Carlisle and Esme, Jasper and Alice were, are, the least flamboyant about their affections and Jasper respects his moods the most. Jasper's not much of a chatter box, unlike some other members of my family." Her eyes twinkled at my mock expression of disbelief. "He warmed up eventually to the rest of us, and in the case of Jacob," she sniggered, "he did so at first just to irritate Rosalie and my dad."

At my quizzical expression, she explained, "My dad, because he was tired of him being able to hear his thoughts. Even now, he sometimes still talks aloud to my father even though he does not have to."

"Why does that bother him?"

Her eyebrows drew together in thought as she stated slowly, "I think, it is because he resents a little that he is forced to exercise some control over his gift so that his wishful thinking does not override our freewill, but my father claims that he cannot help it that his gift is so intrusive."

The conversation ended there because at that moment Morgan and Louie, Zach's friends, came up and started to gloat that they were done with school before we were. This prompted me to ask her about her home school experience once they went inside.

"Oh, it's not bad. It's provided me with a consistent education that I would not have received otherwise since we moved around a lot, due to the fact of my abnormal growth rate." She continued to describe her past and current studies, which floored me to say the least. For example, when she was just four objective years old, she was the one to pick her mother's fabricated last name, since her maiden one was not serviceable for a few more decades; she chose it because she was currently reading _Ivanhoe_.

I would go home after that, followed by Nessie and Jacob, to continue my usual evening routine. I hoped Evan's nightly routine had changed now that we knew the source behind the harassment and he had dissuaded them from a repeat performance. However, I did not ask him about it. It was better for my ease of mind to remain in denial.

My weekend routine began to include trips to the Cullen's for the purpose of Evan teaching me to play the cello. I chose that one because I thought its size would discourage me from lifting it up and smashing it over Evan's gorgeous head in frustration. He is not the most patient of tutors because a) this comes naturally to him and b) his only other pupil has been Nessie, (enough said). Aside from tutor-student frustration and the discovery that my mental and muttered death threats amused Edward and Emmett as they sometimes observed us, the time spent there was what I looked forward to the most, even more than the end of the school year.

These lessons were to increase in their frequency once school was out, Ronnie's wedding was over, and I got back from a three week visit with my mother. I invited Evan as my guest to the wedding, but he declined. I was not all that surprised considering that if he found high school dances to be a tortuous experience, then weddings must be even worse for him. In the end it was a moot point since not even the sun dared to go against Ronnie's wishes and it graced her wedding with its presence. I had fun with Zach, Morgan, and his brothers; they all had interesting stories to tell about Jessie and Ronnie from when they all grew up together.

Concerning my visit, I would have cancelled or at least shortened it if I could since I knew my time with Evan was precious, but I also knew that would have been a futile effort. It was part of the deal that I had made with my mother in order to try my little experiment. Every summer I had been sent to my father so that he could spend some quality time with me. The shortest visit had been three weeks because Vanessa could not spare me longer than that, so my mother believed that she deserved the same. I had no problem with it at the time, and I still didn't except for Evan giving me the impression that he hoped I would decide that I liked being back with my mother and I would not come back.

_Fat chance_.

I have already agreed to paint the dollhouses, miniature stores and town buildings, and jewelry boxes that Ian has been commissioned to do for the town's annual autumn fair for the tourists. I also have made plans to go to a concert with Maggie and the gang. Supposedly, the band is gaining popularity, but she and Jeffrey have been fans since its inception.

During my visit with my mother and Mark, I was conscripted into assisting my mother with one of her projects and also helping her choose a layout for her company's website. Mark also let me have a private viewing of the museum's most recent acquisition as a birthday present. On my birthday, I had a quiet dinner with the two of them, in which their best wine was served throughout the whole meal and I listened to the two of them discussing/debating fate and freewill; Gabby was for fate, and Marcus was for freewill. Although it got heated at times and neither persuaded the other, I was reminded of how happy I was for my mother that she found someone that could keep up with her and provide for her. At the same time, I was grateful that I was living with someone who enjoyed the simple things in life, such as silence.

The day I returned home was Ian's Poker Day or All-Guy Day or whatever he called it, so I asked that Evan come and pick me up from the airport, not knowing that this facilitated Alice's evil plan.

"Where are we going?" I queried, once I woke up enough to realize that we were on the wrong side of town.

"My house, Sleepy," he informed me.

I yawned proving his point and then muttered, "Yes, Evan, I would _love_ to go to your house for the evening, thank you _so much_ for asking."

He rolled his eyes and tugged on a strand of my wavy hair, saying, "You don't really mind. You are just protesting, for protesting's sake."

"Got it in one," I congratulated dryly. "Does Ian know that you are kidnapping me, again?"

He snorted, "Yes, Esme called and told him that the family was borrowing you for the evening. He didn't seem to mind."

"He wouldn't, not tonight at least," I agreed, and then asked as we pulled into the driveway, "So what is on the agenda tonight?"

"A birthday party."

I sat up at this, "Really? Whose?" I felt a little nervous because I didn't get whoever's it was a gift.

He didn't say anything and just looked at me waiting for the light bulb to go on. When it did, I exploded, "No way! Uh-huh. You and your family don't have to do this. My birthday was two weeks ago."

"A fact that Alice resents, so bear with it. Please?" His warm golden brown eyes bore into mine, imploring me to give in.

So I did. I nodded my head and got out when he pulled to a stop, but just before we went into the house, I told him, graciously of course, "You know, eventually, you are going to remember that I like a little more preparation for these family get-togethers that you keep springing on me."

He leaned down and whispered in my ear, "You may like it that way, but I prefer it this way, for the sake of my sanity, Ms. Twenty Questions." His breath on my neck gave me the pleasant kind of chills, to the point that I already had the stunned expression on my face before I even saw the decorations.

My first thought was – thank God, it's not pink. A silvery banner with white lettering hung from the walkway railing, exclaiming "Welcome Home!" Forget-me-not flower garlands adorned it, also including both stair railings. The pathway between the back door and the music dais had tables with white tablecloth, silver and crystal cutlery, and forget-me-not trimming. There were platters filled with hors d'oeuvres, bowls that were filled with fruit including berries and pineapple and bananas, and at the center was a miniature chocolate fondue fountain. Off to one side was a pile of presents. My second thought was – Oh my.

Evan gave me a nudge, and I stepped towards the table, where most everyone was standing and nodded at them all in greeting. Jacob came from outside at the same time and greeted me with, "Hey, look it's the birthday girl. Now I can eat." Bella slapped him, causing me to laugh.

Alice grumbled, "She's not really the birthday girl, since this isn't her birthday, nor is it technically a birthday party, hence, no cake."

Jacob mumbled his characteristic "Sure, sure," as he began to fill his, Nessie's, and my plates, since we were the only ones who could enjoy the spread before us.

I tried to graciously show my appreciation, while at the same time voicing my opinion by interjecting, "Thank you, Alice. It really is quite beautiful, but you didn't have to go through all this trouble."

She waved it off, "It was no trouble at all, except for when Bella kept trying to run interference and cramping my style."

Bella rolled her eyes at this, but smiled when I mouthed a "thank you" at her, when Alice had her head turned. She was glaring at Nessie who had the audacity to giggle at her ordeal.

To change the subject, Nessie asked me about my trip. My recount led to discussion of the artwork displayed at the museum with Carlisle until Emmett got bored enough to express his desire for the presents to be opened.

From the family I received a state of the art digital camera and various accessories, so that I could put to good use my Mac. From Nessie and Jacob, I received charcoal drawing paraphernalia and a calligraphy set, and from Evan I received a scrapbook/sketchbook that on the first page he had written out in his neat and exceptional handwriting Shakespeare's 30th sonnet.

In order to keep myself from getting all emotional over the last one, I distracted myself by attempting to figure out my camera. That took up most of the evening because Emmett, Edward, Evan, and even Jasper all had to get involved in that project, and by the time I left that evening, I had at least 400 or so pictures already saved on my memory card.

The rest of my summer was spent making more memories. They were filled with working on my Autumn Festival projects, music lessons with Evan, rock climbing with Zach, hiking with Evan, hanging out and going to concerts with Jeffrey and Maggie and Co., hanging out with Evan and Co., and so on. I got to watch Zach, Morgan, and Louie make fools of themselves at the lake. I got to discover, sketch, and photograph with Evan a magnificent waterfall. (I never did decide which was more picturesque, it or Evan.) I broadened my horizons musically and was able to earn some cash doing something that I loved. It couldn't get much better than this.

Sonnet 30 by Shakespeare

_When to the session of sweet silent thought  
I summon up remembrance of things past,  
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,  
And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste:  
Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow,  
For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,  
And weep afresh love's long since cancelled woe,  
And moan the expense of many a vanish'd sight:  
Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,  
And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er  
The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan,  
Which I new pay as if not paid before._

_But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,  
All losses are restored and sorrows end._

_

* * *

_

**AN: **1 - I was searching for a poem on friendship when I discovered this one, and it fit so perfectly with Evan and Cadie's that I still get the chills.

2 - Okay, so I have several chapters in the works already and I'll be cranking them out as fast as I can. So those of you anxious for the fluff to cease, hang in there. The angst will ensue soon.

and 3 - I know Tiffany and Genevieve as the vandals is kind of random (kudos to those who guessed right!), but bear with me. There is a method to my madness.

Thanks for all of your encouraging words! It's tremendously appreciated. ; )


	29. Chapter 28 The Truth

Chapter 28 – The Truth

School started in September. It was my senior year. With this realization, I began to realize how little time I truly had. I had a month to finish my festival projects. I had three months to start sending in applications into various colleges, which I had yet to make up my mind about. I had only nine months left with Evan. Nine months may seem to be longer in comparison with the other two. However, look at how fast the last eight months had flown by.

It hurt to think that in less than a year we would go our separate ways – forever.

I had never talked to someone so openly before, not even my own mother. It's hard to come to a new school and develop the intimate relationships that one used to have that took a whole childhood to develop. I was beginning to do that with Maggie, Dani, and Regan and more successfully with Zach since we had a history and family connection, but with Evan, I was able to go on a whole new level. I can't explain why. He was just different. You know, aside from the vampire thing, or maybe it was because of it.

We talked of my dreams of creating at least one beautiful thing that would relieve some of the ugliness of the world. My mother would have been supportive, but then counter it with a practical back up plan. Ian would have been proud of my idealism, but I'm not sure he would have thought it wise to dream so big as well, although he would have never voiced that concern. Evan was different. When I mentioned it to him, his golden eyes warmed not with just pride but with understanding and faith.

We talked of our biggest regrets. He, of course, wished that he had been able to resist his nature as successfully as Carlisle or Bella. I told him of my wish that I had not got caught up in my anger at my changing world to the point that I didn't notice what was going on with Vanessa. I had never voiced this before because I didn't want to see or hear that belief confirmed by another, advice given, or denial made out of misguided loyalty. None of these would have been helpful. Evan recognized this simple truth, held my hand, and just listened.

We talked of our fears also. We were sitting on the front porch swing after school. I no longer felt embarrassed to have Ian see him because fortunately the two of them met while I was at Gabby's. (Emilie happened to witness this so I got the long drawn out version of the encounter over the phone that night. Afterwards, I was quite content with both Ian's "I saw him at Tink's. He seems to be an alright boy," and Evan's "It went well. There was no awkwardness. It was just a 'Hi-Hello-Nice to meet you' exchange. You worried for nothing," accompanied with a playful tweaking of my hair.)

"What's your greatest fear?" I asked as the squirrel that I had been watching vanished from sight.

He took awhile to answer me, but then he whispered, "I'm afraid that I'll hurt someone I love." He looked at me and then my throat significantly then so that I would not misunderstand what he meant by "hurt."

I nodded. People hurt loved ones all the time, but he was concerned that he would do what he almost did the night he went back to his family. I wanted to grab his face and tell him that he hadn't then so he wouldn't now or ever, but I knew he would only respond with 'there is a first time for everything' line. However, I know that it's because I trust him so implicitly that he feels the need to worry for the both of us. So I just took his marble-hard hand in mine and gave it a little squeeze before interlacing our fingers.

"What's yours?"

I sighed. "It's irrational and stupid. But I'm afraid that everyone will abandon me," I finally admitted aloud, trailing off into whisper in embarrassment.

"Why do you think it's irrational?" he asked gently. "People go their separate ways all the time, so it's logical to feel some apprehension about it, especially since you are about to start a new chapter in your life."

I snorted, "Logical that I should feel apprehension about change, yes. Logical that my heart rate goes up and I become short of breath and I imagine myself all alone and screaming in the middle of a crowded room knowing that no one that I love is there to hear me and hold me because they have more important things to do than be with me in my crisis? No."

A tear began to fall down my cheek then because I knew that he could not say the words that I wanted him to say that would make it all better. He could say that my father or my mother would jump on a plane in an instant to come to me if I needed them to, and it would be true. He himself could not though. Who knew that a folktale creature of the night would become my sunshine?

The tear didn't even get passed my nose before he took his hand from mine to wipe it gently off my cheek, and then he pulled me into his side and laid my head on his shoulder. We rocked like that until Ian called me into dinner, and he went home. Just before he left, he did a rare thing. He drew me into a full bodied hug and let me return the embrace with all my meager might, ending it with a soft kiss to the forehead.

I was quiet all through dinner, and once again I was thankful for who my father was because he respected a teenage girl's need to brood in silence.

* * *

I think it was a combination of my depression, the stress of meeting my deadline for my festival projects, and my autumn allergies that my annual being-back-to-school cold hit me so hard that I missed school for a week.

I wasn't so depressed that I had withdrawn emotionally from everyone. No, that would have been a crime. I made every moment that I could count with my friends and even Ian, but especially with Evan and his family. It was just that I suffered from a loss of appetite and a sudden case of insomnia, which didn't help matters.

Evan came over everyday after school and visited with me despite the fact that I wasn't the most pleasant person to be around. I get real cranky and whiny when I'm sick. I suppose, it's a good thing that I lost my voice by day three.

When Ian protested, to my horror, because I could still be contagious, Evan just waved him off and boyishly proclaimed that there was "No worries," for he was "healthy as a horse, just ask Carlisle." Then when Ian turned to go back to his workshop, he winked at me causing me to laugh, which quickly turned into a racking cough.

On Saturday, which was day five, he brought over a chicken broth that Esme had made for me. He also returned to me my sketchbook that I had thought I had lost. It had been missing for over a week.

"Here you go." Evan said handing me my sketchbook after he put the broth on the stove to keep warm for later.

I hugged it to myself, checked to make sure nothing was missing or damaged, and then mouthed, "Where?"

He sighed in aggravation, "Nessie."

I mouthed "Oh," before I looked at him nervously and mimed as best I could "Did you see it?" We had managed to master this form of communication within hours of discovering the necessity of it. It took Ian a few tries every time we attempted it.

A pained expression crossed his face before answered, "No, I didn't, she showed it to the rest of the family. Apparently, she thinks you are quite good and wished to share it with them because she knew you never would."

I buried my head in my hands to regain my composure, and then I mouthed "Thank you" before demonstrating to him what I would like to do with Ms. Nosy Nessie. He let out a deep rumbling chuckle in response that made me smile in contentment.

I then nudged the sketchbook towards him and raised a questioning eyebrow.

He didn't reach for it at first, and only asked hesitantly, "You're sure?"

When I nodded trying my hardest not to betray my nervousness, he reached for it, never taking his eyes off of me until he opened the first page. After the third page, he looked up and said, "Breathe, Cadie Rowan Darby. Nessie was right: these are quite good."

I did let out the breath that I had been holding and then for the next few minutes I focused on telling myself when to inhale and when to exhale. This was not necessary because I needed him to praise my work, (not to be conceited or anything), but I knew that they were decent enough that I didn't need him to. It was more because most of that sketchbook was filled with depictions of him and his family, but mostly him. I didn't want him to think that I was obsessed or anything.

He never let on what he thought while he perused them. And "peruse" them he did. I knew from what Nessie had told me of their extra-sensory perception that he could have gone a lot faster, but he took his time to scrutinize _every_ one of them. If I hadn't been so concerned about his reaction, I would have drifted off to sleep as I was want to do since I became sick.

He finally put it down after going back and reexamining a few of them to my dismay, and said solemnly, "Like I said, they are quite good, but I think your subject matter could be better chosen. I would suggest Mr. Freckles the Pimp, for instance." At this, he let out a puckish smile.

I threw one of my many pillows at him and rolled my eyes before demanding that he hand it back to me. I did a quick sketch of Jeremy from prom night while I had the energy. When I was done, I showed it to him. His only reaction was to say cheekily, "Jaunty," in reference to the positioning of Jeremy's fedora.

I stuck my tongue out at him, and then mouthed "Favorite?"

He got up and moved behind the couch so that he could turn the pages from over my shoulder. He showed me three of them: the one of Esme working on her greenhouse, the one of Nessie playing the violin, and the only one of me. I mouthed "Why?" but he only tweaked my hair and went into the kitchen to get my lunch and refill my tea cup.

While he was busy in there, I contemplated the possible answers. I knew that he was closest to Esme and Nessie. But those weren't the only ones I had done of them, and of Esme's that was not the best. No, the one I had done of her leaning back into Carlisle who was laughing at some story that Emmet had been telling at the time was by far the best. I suppose, though, such a couple-ish portrait would not be as attractive to him as when the two of them were working on the same project.

I turned to the one of me. Sketching myself is not my most favorite thing to do, but I do it for the same reason most people eat vegetables. This one was of me looking out my window. I had had Ian take a picture of me, and I had positioned several mirrors to reflect the image to me so that I would not have to change positions too much. I recall that I had done it on one of the weekends that Evan had gone hunting and I hadn't been in the mood to work on my projects as a result.

By the time Evan came back, I could only conclude that he was weird.

He gave me the bowl only after he had me positioned just right and had given me a napkin to place over my shirt. He then turned the TV on, pretending to watch it, knowing that I felt subconscious about him watching me eat, when he wasn't as well. He's thoughtful like that.

While keeping his eyes on the TV, he asked me, "Can you do me a favor?"

I obviously couldn't say anything, nor could I gesture what I wanted to say, which was "Tell me first," as my hands were occupied with the bowl of broth, so I waited, warily.

He smirked realizing that I was not going to fall for so simple a ploy and faced me, answering my unasked question, "I want you to trust me and not take the south bridge into or out of town. I don't think it's sound enough to endure the torrential rains that Alice and the weathermen are predicting for this season."

This was a huge favor to ask because by taking the north bridge I would be adding a half hour or more on to my trip to town, but I trusted him. I did not agree immediately, however, until I made sure he was not just concerned for my safety alone. I raised an eyebrow hoping he would understand what I wanted.

He was not a mind reader like Edward though, so I had to spell it out for him, literally, as I set down my bowl and wrote out my request on the notepad that I usually reserved for communicating with Ian.

"Of course, I have already informed the town council of it," he informed me with mock offense, and then amended more jovially, "as an anonymous concerned citizen, since I highly doubt they would value the calculations performed by a mere high school student, even one of excellent academic standing as myself."

"Whether or not," he continued, "they act upon it, I don't know, so if you want I can use my gift for the benefit of Ian and your friends as well…?"

What an ethical conundrum – safety of loved ones or freewill? After much thought, I compromised. Picking up the pad, I asked via written word, "_Can you plant a suggestion to take the longer route but still leave them the option of not?_"

He thought about it for a minute, his face forming briefly into a deeply pensive expression, before carefully answering, "I'll try, but if not I'll leave it up to you to convince them."

I nodded, and then carefully washed my hands again in with antibacterial soap, (which was kind of silly since he couldn't get sick from me), before shaking his hand in the imitation of one concluding a deal.

He smiled with that self-satisfied smirk of his before returning to the TV to leave me to my lunch. I was observing him from out of the corner of my eye as I pondered that whole interchange, realizing that I had been deftly manipulated by him, yet again. I wasn't too mad at him because for one, he did give me a choice, and secondly, it was for my benefit. I could have been mad at him for being an arrogant figurative bastard about it, but I couldn't because I –

"Are you alright?" Evan was at my side in a tenth of a second, removing the bowl from my grasp and handing me napkins and tissues so that I could wipe up the mess I made and blow my nose, both of which were necessary after spewing and snorting my soup all at the same time.

As inelegant as this reaction was, having broth go up my sinus cavities gave me an excuse to have tears drip down my face. I nodded to reassure him, and then I indicated that I was done and was going to take a nap. Since it was Saturday, I knew he had planned to stay until dinner even if I slept through most of the afternoon.

He settled back down and went back to pretending to watch some sports game, but his acting was not as good this time around as I saw his gaze flicker in my direction repeatedly through the thin slit I had left open between my eyelids.

I'm not sure if my acting was entirely successful either. It was hard to remember to regulate my breathing as I contemplated my revelation. It was just typical of me to have this grand realization in the most unromantic of circumstances. I was suffering a cold, for goodness sakes! My nose was alternating between stuffy and runny. My throat felt as dry as the Sahara Desert, and then, every time I coughed, it felt as if Mount Mauna Loa had decided to erupt out my mouth, spewing volcanic rock that scraped my esophagus on the way out. I was suffering from a fever that went back and forth between the chills and the sweats so I didn't feel clean or pretty or even remotely comfortable.

It was this moment that I had to discover that I was in love with Evan Reilly Keegan, charming Irish vampire. Ugh.

I wish I could have focused on just that one superficial fact, but I couldn't. I had to then begin to worry about the consequences of such feelings. No, not feelings, but a truth. Feelings can be rationalized, beaten into submission, influenced by chocolate or a half-gallon of ice cream. Truths are like, well, death and taxes. One can attempt to avoid them (and will fail), but no one denies their existence.

And no one escapes their consequences, which brings me back full circle. I was in love with Evan. I did not know if he loved me back, but nevertheless that did not matter. It didn't, because I knew him enough to know that as much as he had wanted to have _her_ live with him forever, he would not want me to. He would be like Edward and want me to live a proper and natural human life. As much as I'm grateful for the effect the Cullens have had on his life, I curse them for making him so noble and selfless now.

I was in love with Evan, and I was destined to never see him again past high school.

Bloody hell.

The fact that this is bothered me to the extent that it did scared me more than anything else. I was now one of _those_ girls. I was the latest member of the Juliet Club, someone who had fallen in love with the most impractical person she knows before she had gone out and experienced life and now felt that she could never move on. I would always compare others to Evan's perfection. Let's face it, he had silky black curls, warm expressive eyes, no matter if they were golden or black, an equally expressive mouth with not too full lips, and a strong determined chin. His build was muscular without being bulky. And it radiated vibes of self-restrained predatory and leonine power. His height was tall, but not being overly so, at least for me.

I could go on and on about his physical beauty, but I would actually prefer if I could not. Anyways, it wasn't his gorgeousness that resulted in The Truth. It was him, his kindness, his playfulness, his intelligence and curiosity, his protectiveness (though at times that could be annoyingly ridiculous rather than endearing), his charm, his dark humor, and … etc.

_Merde_.


	30. Chapter 29 Channeling Scarlet

Chapter 29 – Channeling Scarlet

I am a walking contradiction. I continue my friendship with Cadie because she brings me happiness, and yet proximity to her also brings me pain because I want more. I am a glutton for punishment. I see history beginning to repeat itself, but I do nothing to change it. If I had any sense of self-preservation, which one would think I would have since I am such a self-centered creature, I would leave.

But I won't.

She doesn't necessarily "complete me," but she does fill my vacuum of a soul with light and warmth. I have never been so close with anyone before. My human family had expectations of me that never allowed me to be myself. I was afraid to tell Eliza my darkest secret, and the Cullens are their own intense group, unified by experiences that I do not share with them. Esme and Carlisle are kind and willing to listen, but when they look at me, I see pity in their eyes.

Cadie never pities me. She hurts for me at times, such as when I told her of the regret I feel for giving in, but she accepts the reality as I do that this is my small burden to bear for the crimes that I committed and that it should not be taken away. Instead of, "Oh, but you've changed," she simply says, "Keep doing better," and smiles encouragingly as she interlaces our fingers together.

Cadie's touch in and of itself is addicting. It's warm and feather light as she has not the strength to apply any real pressure, not that this has ever been her intent. If I was to use an analogy, it is like the feeling of the heat from a fire thawing one's semi-frozen fingers after a few hours in the snow. It's exquisite pleasure-pain, much like our time together.

The other day Nessie asked me what was my favorite thing about her. It was a sappy Elizabeth Browning moment before I decided on, "her vision and love of others." When she was describing her dream, her face was all lit up and she was passionate, not about being a famous or a renowned artist, but about creating something beautiful for the benefit of everyone else. Her biggest regret had to do with not doing enough for those she loved.

Her fear of abandonment resonates in my soul, for I had been there; and from experience, I too did not want to be left alone to my own devices. I do not think that such a caring person as she, who is loved by her mother, father, stepfather, and friends, would ever find herself in such a situation. However, the fear is enough to drive one mad.

This concern for others and fear of abandonment are going to kill her one of these days. I have recently come to suspect that it has dawned on her that she has less than a year left with us, because she is feverishly pouring herself into every encounter with me and the family. Nessie noticed it too and approached me the other day, advising me talk with Cadie about it, which I agreed to do, but not in time to help prevent her from getting sick.

Her sudden illness scared me. It was yet another reminder that I didn't need that she was a frail human being. As bad as her voice sounded in the first few days, it has been torture to be even without that raspy croak of hers for the past few days. I mentioned my concerns to Carlisle, and he recommended a broth, which Esme volunteered immediately to make.

I was on my way to pick it up from Esme when I saw Nessie, Alice, and Emmett collectively bent over something near the dais. I would have ignored them except for the fact that Emmett looked up and gave me his widest grin - that usually suggested I was in for a serious and nasty round with Rosalie - and Edward and Bella were sending me knowing looks as well.

"What, may I ask has everyone's attention?" I asked suspiciously.

This was met with a slightly guilty expression on Nessie's part and a cheeky one on Alice's before Nessie hid whatever it was behind her back and said brightly, "Nothing!"

I looked to Bella and Edward. Bella caved and explained, "Nessie was just showing us how talented Cadie is."

"Although at the time, I was under the impression that she had it with her permission," Edward added with a hint of disapproval.

I fixed my gaze on Nessie and said ominously, "No, I don't think she does, because she won't even let me look at it, if we are talking about a certain sketchbook of hers," causing the culprit to squirm slightly.

"For good reason," Emmett muttered, confirming my suspicions by not contradicting them.

I raised an eyebrow at him asking for clarification, but Alice is the one who answered, "He just means that you wouldn't like what you would see if you saw it."

Deciding it would be best to not to bite on that bait, I asked the more important question on my mind, "How many people have you shown this to, Renesmee Carlie Cullen?"

She bit her lip and began counting on her fingers, "Well, first there was Jacob and Jasper in the garage, and then Esme and Carlisle in the kitchen before he went on shift, and then everyone here…"

"So everyone but Rosalie?" I prodded.

"Well, no, Jacob showed it to her when we were in the garage, but he only showed her Cadie's sketch of her," she said the last in a rush. "And she didn't say anything really aside from her lady-like grunt, which for Rosie means even she thought it was good."

"That's beside the point, Renesmee," I sighed in aggravation. "Can I have it now?"

"Are you going to look at it?" she queried excitedly as she handed it over to me.

"No," I said curtly. "That would be rather hypocritical, don't you think?"

She shrugged, before she made a beeline out the door in the hopes of avoiding a lecture from me or her parents.

When I walked into the kitchen, Esme greeted me with, "They really are very good, Evan. You should ask her to see them. My favorite is the portrait of the family."

I pecked her on the cheek in greeting and smiled, "I don't have to look at them to know they're good. But I want her to be the one to show me, and I want her to be there when I see it. She'll be so cute waiting to see my reaction."

"Well, don't be too harsh on the girl," she admonished as she handed me the bowl of broth.

I laughed and said, "Who me?" before heading out to my truck, trying not to think of what Emmett and Alice had been referring to earlier.

I let myself in and headed straight to the couch to see her wan face break out into the most relieved smile, as if she was afraid that I would not be there. Tapping her wrist where a watch should be, she mouthed, "You're late."

I held up the Tupperware bowl of broth, and explained, "Esme wanted me to give this to you." She nodded her acceptance and settled back on to her mountain of pillows, waving with mock imperiousness to the kitchen.

I bowed with equal overdramatic subservience and did as she bid, wincing when her laugh turned into a cough.

I decided to get it over with and give her back her sketchbook now. I was grateful that I did when I saw her heartbreakingly relieved expression as she saw what it was and that everything was seemingly still there. It pained me to think that Nessie's thoughtless act had caused her such great anxiety, and I vowed to impress on her the importance of respecting her new friend's boundaries, since she apparently was as bad as me in getting everything she wants.

She pulled me out of my somber mood by her violent gestures that she claimed to wish to commit against the young reprobate, but in trying to imagine such a compassionate and essentially frail creature attempting to do even a fraction of what was intimated was too much for me, so I laughed in her face. Fortunately for her own safety, she did not interpret the reasoning behind my response, for if she had, I predict she would have attempted to try out her violent threats on me.

She definitely would not have offered what she did next. I could tell when I double-checked with her that my looking at her sketches meant as much to her as I predicted it would. Her whole body went still except for her tiny little nod.

I took my time with them, not just to torture her, but also because I really wanted to fully appreciate what I knew mattered to her. This notebook I knew was filled with her more serious sketches. The one she draws in at school is beaten up, dog-eared, and doodled all over on the cover, while this one is pristine and cared for.

The first sketch was of her car and the garage guys, including Old Tink, Zach and his friends, and Jacob. Each was done with loving detail and showed some little quirk of their personality. I can see why this grabbed Nessie's attention.

The second and third was of her father. One was him in his workshop sanding down what looked to be either what could potentially be a rocking chair or a cradle, and the other was of him in the kitchen sampling something from a pot on the stove, while wearing the most ridiculous-looking apron on the continent.

I reminded her to breathe at this point and reassured her of what I thought, before continuing on to the next one, which was of me playing the cello and in the background Nessie was playing the violin and Edward, the piano. The next one was of me again, standing on her eyrie platform with its incredible view behind me, all from her sitting perspective. I looked very tall and impressive from that angle, which is what I think she was going for. There were sketches of Rosalie and Emmett, Jasper and Alice, and Edward and Bella dancing at prom. There were sketches of Jasper and Edward playing checkers, and of Emmett telling a story and everyone's reactions to it, and of Esme working on her greenhouse, and of me and Jacob wrestling, and of the house and the fountain, and of me lying across her bed reading some book, and so on. There were a few of her school friends, but not a whole lot.

All of them were quite good. Any stranger looking at these would have gotten to know us, aside from our inhumanness. She captured Emmett's boyish lust for life, Rosalie's beauty and flair, Esme's and Carlisle's love as well as Edward's and Bella's, Nessie's irresistibleness, Alice's grace and Jasper's charisma, and Jacob's risk-taking attitude. Of me, she captured little facet's of my personality in each of them. Some of them exemplified what she might have called my roguish Irish charm, and another depicted my "Byronic" scowl that I assume that I wear when I'm being "overbearingly protective."

I wasn't sure how I felt about them, nor how to communicate it when I did, so in order to buy time, I decided to tease her a little more and suggest Tombs as a proper subject.

It did the trick, and she quickly sketched him as he was on prom night. It did not distract her for long though, because she then asked what my favorite was. Thinking quickly, I decided to show them to her and then go and get her lunch as another distraction.

She, of course, had to ask me why, but being mysterious was much more fun than satisfying her insatiable curiosity. She wouldn't understand why I picked them. Well, she probably would have of the ones of Esme and Nessie, but the one of her, definitely not.

She's leaning against the frame with one side of it open, gazing out into the forest below with what I find to be her most endearing smile. Her eyes are a light with dreams and hopes, and her face is at peace. She hasn't smiled like that in a long time, and I wish that I could change that.

After she was settled and eating her soup, I began to have an internal debate. I knew this was the perfect time to ask her what was the matter and get her talking about the coming spring, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. Instead, I decided to bring up another subject that was a little less intense, but no less important.

"Can you do me a favor?"

It was difficult to keep a straight face as she looked between me and the bowl in her hands with a frustrated and perturbed expression before giving up and cautiously waiting for me to continue. She was learning.

I brought up my concerns about the bridge, and the conversation went pretty much as expected. Her concern for others was the first thing on her mind, and the major bargaining chip to getting her to commit to waking up a half hour earlier than she wanted to do every morning.

I was busy congratulating myself on a job well done, when she suddenly decided to skip the middle man of her digestive system and bring the nutrients straight to the source of the problem. I helped her clean-up as best I could and pretended along with her that she was sleeping so that she could save face and have the privacy that she needed, but I could tell that whatever caused the little mishap was continuing to bother her.

While debating on how to get her to open up about it so that I could help fix whatever it was or just provide a sounding board, I realized that the battle that I had been fighting since last January had been lost.

There she was pale and clammy from her illness, flushed from her embarrassment, and her nose pink and peeling from the consistent need to blow it, and I found her to be the most beautiful creature alive. There she was moody and aloof, the opposite of all I had praised her to be earlier, and I wanted more than anything to change that. To see her look at me with tear-filled eyes and cry on my shoulder or to see them flash with anger and have her chuck things at me or to see her crack a relieved smile _or something_ would be as satisfying as drinking dry a bison.

I had never before centered my very existence around another person. Helping my family and meeting their expectations was for my benefit. All the things that I had done for Eliza and wanted to do for her had ultimately had the end result of making me happy. But not her. No, for her I would sacrifice my happiness for her well-being, for her benefit.

It was time I admitted that I was in love with her.

Cadence Rowan Darby had captured my stone-cold heart.

I didn't know if she loved me in that way at all. I suspected that she could from her drawings. As much as my selfish nature thrills to that possibility, this new side to me is fearful for her. Bella and Edward's story turned out happy in the end, but the whole journey to that is not something that I want for Cadie. I want what's best for her, and loving me, a monster, and wanting to share in _that_ part of my life is not it. She deserves so much more…

My thoughts go around and around, swirling in intensity, but there is no solution. I could gradually wean myself away from her and her influence on me or just do it cold turkey.

I could, but not starting today.

This is all a momentary mental exercise. Resistance truly is futile. I am not nearly as strong as Edward was, and _look_ how long his strength sustained him. Thus, my only option is to enjoy every moment I have with her and go from there.

After all, "Tomorrow is another day."

* * *

**AN: **So here you go, a two-for.

Like?


	31. Chapter 30 Pit of Despair

Chapter 30 – Pit of Despair

Once I got over my cold and I completed all my projects, the Cullens decided to celebrate by inviting me to one of their baseball games. As a hockey fan, I'm not too keen on baseball, but watching them play is a converting experience.

"So why is it again that we are driving to the middle of nowhere in a severe thunder storm?" I asked, not really expecting an answer, but more as a matter of form.

Evan's grin just became as wide as one of Emmett's, and he tussled my damp and now spiraling hair as he turned down yet another muddy rode, "You'll see."

See I did, but only after I endured a jaunt on his back to a random clearing.

"You're late," Emmett called.

"Alice?" Evan queried confidently.

She smiled knowingly, "He arrived precisely when _I_ expected him to."

"Ah!" Emmett rumbled in protest. "Let's start."

Everyone looked to Alice, and when she nodded they moved into position just as the first grumble from the heavens began. I moved to sit on the stump that was off to the side of Esme, who looked to be catching and umpiring, and Evan went out to right center field, while Edward went to far left. Alice went to the pitcher position, and Jasper went just behind first. Emmett was up to bat first, it seemed. His teammates were Carlisle, Rosalie, and Nessie.

"Where's Bella and Jacob?" I asked as their absence became glaringly evident.

"Oh, they went to hang out, just the two of them. They do that on occasions like these because Bella is not much of a sports person," Esme explained quickly.

This was necessary because the game began with explosive action. Alice pitched it, I assumed, because I heard the result of Emmett's bat meeting the ball and saw him take off for first. It went between Edward and Evan, but unlike normal players who didn't have the benefits of extrasensory perception like Edward, there was no hesitation about who was to get the ball or embarrassing collisions. Edward went after it like a heat-seeking missile to burning plane engines and caught it, at least to Esme's eyes, as she called the burly vampire out as he was rounding second.

The rest of the inning went much like that. Rosalie hit the ball over Evan's head, and while he did not catch it, he did throw her out at home due to her underestimation of his speed. Nessie managed to get on base as she popped one just at the edge of the field behind third base. Her father missed it just barely, and there was an argument over whether it was fair or not. Esme settled it in Nessie's favor, obviously. Not that this mattered, because Carlisle was the third out when Jasper was able snag his deep line drive out of the air.

Nessie pitched for her team, and she took personal delight in forcing her father to pop the ball up. Because he was so fast, he was still able to get on base, just not as far as he normally would have gotten, judging by her satisfied smirk. Alice got on base as well, but Jasper got out on first when he was "tagged out" by Emmett. It was more like collided into. It was abundantly clear that the storm was not only covering the sound of the bats cracking. Their crash was horrendously loud, as if two air force jets had failed at the game of chicken.

The game was extraordinary to say the least. I was never sure who was going to win. Evan's team had his long arm, Edward's speed, Alice's wicked pitching, and Jasper's strategic skills, but the other team had Emmett's dynamo batting skills, Carlisle's discipline, Rosalie's intensity, and Nessie's all-around genius. There were innings when no one would score because both teams were defense masters, and then there were innings when the ball seemed to permanently be beyond my feeble eyes as it was in the air or hidden by the dust kicked up by their lightning fast feet. The game was called when Evan was able to steal home on one of Jasper's well-placed hits, tipping the score in their favor.

"So what did you think?" Nessie questioned as she bounced up, brown eyes dancing, despite the fact that she lost.

I rolled mine, "As if you couldn't tell by the fact that my throat is nearly raw from all my cheering."

"You should have toned it down a little," Evan stated a little irritably, when he heard my voice crack.

I waved his well-meaning advice off dismissively. "And not support my team? I'm a hockey fan. We just don't _do_ that!" I cried with mock outrage.

"You cheered for both teams, Cadie!" Nessie giggled.

"So?"

"You're impossible!" she exclaimed as she kissed my cheek in goodbye, while I was in mid-yawn. "Get this girl to bed, Evan. She has a big day tomorrow." She commanded, referring to the opening of the festival.

"As you wish, Your High-_Ness_," was his horrible pun of a reply as he swept me up on to his back.

I managed to wave to everyone before I was whisked away, committing to memory the face Nessie made in response to sketch later.

When we got to my house, he walked me to my door and bid me goodbye, kissing my cheek much like Nessie did. I stopped him though and whispered pleadingly, "Can't you stay with me a little longer? We could watch the lightning display…"

"Cadie…" he protested, almost sounding pained.

"What?"

"You have to stop doing this," he stated exasperatedly.

"Doing what?" I asked, not realizing that I had been doing what I knew he was referring to.

He grabbed my hand and led me over to the porch swing. "We need to talk."

_Oh crap_, my mind exclaimed. It was the dreaded four words that usually prefaced bad news of every variety. To lighten the mood, I said in an extra-whiny voice, "Are you breaking up with me?"

He grunted, "Be serious, Cadie. You have been acting weird ever since school started, overexerting yourself in every interaction with my family, and making reckless choices."

"Like what?" I felt like a mulish pre-teen or even stubborn toddler, but I couldn't seem to stop myself. It was either this or be swept up by his domineering personality.

"Like tonight, for instance! Yelling yourself hoarse after just recovering your voice. Wanting to stay out in the cold, during a thunderstorm, to watch said storm, after just getting over being seriously ill! It's not healthy," He insisted vehemently.

_Enter Stubborn Teenager, stage right._ Rolling my eyes, I snapped, "Oh, please. Get off your high horse, Evan."

"Beg your pardon?" he asked incredulously.

Going into full temper-tantrum mode, I stood up and stomped my foot before beginning to pace. "What do I mean?! What do I mean? I mean – " I gestured at him angrily, "I mean that you're the one who plays God with people! Mrs. Tyler irritates you? You feel that it is okay to 'persuade' her not talk to you. Someone has seen something that they shouldn't? You feel justified in messing with their heads and making them forget. As if you know best!"

His face darkened as he challenged, "You didn't seem to mind my 'gift' when it got Blondes One and Two off your back."

"Yeah? Well, I had a weak moment." I admitted grudgingly before going back on the offensive, "But you could have found a way to report them to the police or something instead of violating their freewill."

He balled his hands into fists and his dark eyes flashed with restrained fury at my attack. His reaction was so intense that I took a step back. As soon as he saw my reaction, he ground his jaws together, closed his eyes, and tried to relax. Once he had regained his composure, he softly asked, "What are you afraid of?"

I don't know if it was the soothing, honeyed tones of his voice, the tenderness in his dark amber eyes, or his _knowing_ that did me in. It was probably a combination of all three, but the irate energy that I had been maintaining as a defense drained from me. I could do nothing but stare at him and pray that I wouldn't lose all sense of self-respect and be one of those heroines that needed her male comforter to provide her with a handkerchief, (which they always seemed to have on hand).

"Cadie?" he whispered, "Is it because you think that you won't be seeing us after graduation?"

"But I won't be," I mumbled in pitiful protestation. "Sure, you'll stay on for a few months and then you will all start over somewhere else, and – and I'll be forced to live as if I never knew you…"

When he saw my tears, he slowly got to his feet and stood in front of me, lightly placing his hands on the side of my face. He held it, brushing the tears away with his cool thumbs, his voice breaking as he pleaded, "Don't cry. I can't … Don't cry… It won't be like that."

"How will it be?" I sniffed.

Wrapping me in his jacket and then pulling me to his chest, he answered, "You'll be able to visit anytime you wish, and hopefully vice versa. We'll be able to talk over the phone and e-mail. There's this wonderful thing called technology that has changed the way long-distance relationships work, or so I'm told."

"Yeah, but how will that work?" I questioned. "I mean, what will the story be, since I'm aging and you all are not?"

"Well, that's where we will have to get creative," he encouraged gently. "At first, it'll be the truth, old school mates, and then you'll be an older family friend. Which family member, you are connected to will become interesting…" He drifted off to allow me to use my imagination, or he was just reluctant to say what I was dreading.

"You mean, when I'm like seventy, I'll be Carlisle or Esme's grandmother?" I tried to make it sound if I was amused by this prospect.

Whether I was successful or not, I'll never know because he could have been playing along when he softly chuckled, "That's a distinct possibility."

"You've thought about this a lot, haven't you?" I half-teased.

"But, of course," he replied in his best British accent, "Nessie and I have had to, in order to deal with Jasper's and Rosalie's persistent questions."

"Having a plausible cover story isn't their only concern, I bet," I surmised morosely, thinking of the Volturi.

He gave me a little encouraging squeeze, "Don't you worry about _Them_. The Cullens have dealt with them before and came out alright."

"But they weren't breaking any rules then," I insisted.

"We've already broken the One Rule. Might as well go to hell for the whole enchilada, as Nessie keeps reiterating," he pointed out with a slight grin. More seriously, he continued, "Besides, the Volturi didn't come off so well in the last encounter. I don't think they will be itching to find a reason for another one, at least not in the next few decades."

I wanted to say something like "That's a lot to assume," or point out that wounded pride might have the opposite affect, but I didn't have the energy to belabor the argument. I didn't have the physical, emotional, or even mental energy to continue this discussion or any other right then. Evan was right. I had been pushing myself too hard. I had to bite my lip hard to keep from crying out in petulant vexation. I didn't _want_ Evan to be right.

"Cadie?" Evan asked concernedly at my lack of response to his last comment.

"I'm fine, Evan," I curtly reassured. Giving him a brief hug, I handed him his jacket before going in. I did the last with some reluctance. It was not only warm but it also smelled just like him, woodsy and crisp, like newly fallen snow.

At this thought, I knew it was passed my bedtime, so I quickly made my way inside barely even acknowledging Evan's good night. I waved at Ian who was cleaning up his mess from dinner as I passed through the kitchen and headed straight to bed.

* * *

But I couldn't sleep.

My thoughts kept turning and roiling like a flooded river after a bad storm. Flotsam and jetsam would get dragged down by the powerful current and then would bob to the surface. The intruding and sleep-depriving thoughts that I was having could be equated with the ever so unpleasant images of decaying unrecognizable carcasses.

Evan's reassurances that we would continue our friendship were not very comforting. For one, I was not very good at long distance relationships as evidenced by the maybe once a month phone calls or email exchanges that I have with Ashley and Eddie. Granted, it's their fault too, and I'm sure Evan would be a far more faithful and diligent correspondent than they are, but still …I just don't feel connected with them when I can't see their faces. And Evan is so good at hiding his emotions when he wants to that one needs to watch for the smallest flicker of emotion that technology such as Skype could never convey.

For another, I wanted more. It was dangerous to want more, I knew. Not because of his – er, nature – but because of what would happen if he found out and what it could do (is doing) to my sanity.

If he found out, knowing him, he would pull away. He would leave me. Before I left for my mom's this past summer and during our phone conversations while I was there, he kept hinting at how it would be better for me if I stayed there. Most of the time, it was in a teasing and joking manner, recalling all of my accidents and crazy "friends." But I knew that on more than one occasion he was referring to the danger of being in close relations with him. That day that he told me the story of Edward and Bella, I kind of got the impression that he felt that it would have been better if Edward had stayed strong and stayed away – minus the fact that Nessie never would have come into existence. If he had any inkling that I had lost all sense of self-preservation and wanted to interact at an even more intimate level, he would pull an Edward.

Oh God. The thought, the mere _thought_ of never again having Evan in my life was like – was like facing a future of blindness, forever destined to exist in a world without color and beauty.

My very soul shrivels at that idea.

And if he was not to be mine that left him open to be someone else's. Heck, he fell for a girl before and wanted her to be in his life forever, he could do it again. …Or worse yet, he could _still _be in love with her. It would explain so much about why he still kept up barriers between us, why he kept pushing me away, like tonight when all I asked was to sit out and stargaze together for a few minutes.

No, Evan's reassurances tonight meant nothing to me. To have him so close and yet so very far and excruciatingly unaware was maddening. I felt as if a giant gaping maw was opening up to swallow me whole and drag me under into a purgatory of no reprieve. If Evan was not to be in my life, my continued existence would be in a colorless world, absent of light, music, or sensation of any kind. If we were to continue as just friends, my black abyss would be filled with thousands of broken shards of glass and swirling winds of biting sand. Every smile, every arrogantly raised eyebrow, every tweaking of my stray curls would be an aggravating torment that would wear away at me until I was nothing like myself.

Somehow in the middle of all this, I fell asleep. It was not a restful sleep, and I woke up before my alarm went off. Giving up the hope for oblivion as a lost, I got up and morosely looked at my reflection.

It was horrendous. My hair was a riotous mass, and not the sexy-just-got-out-of-bed look, but more like the mad savage woman look from that Kevin Costner Native American film. My face was both pasty pale and splotchy, streaked with tear tracts, even though I don't remember crying after I washed my face last night. My eyes were puffy and had that crazed look of someone whose mind is going a million miles a minute like she is on crack.

All I can say is – Ugh.

After I got two cups of coffee in me, taken another shower, and got ready for school, I sat myself down in front of the mirror and had a nice, long pep-talk with myself.

_This pathetic and pointless pity party will not continue!_

_Cadie, I refuse to let the Juliet-syndrome happen to us. The ache in our bones and in our heart may tell us differently, but I refuse to let our – our emotions (yes, best to avoid the L word) make us all gooey inside. I have plans. And they do not include repeating our mother's past choices. Even if Evan did return my feelings and wanted to pursue a relationship with me and we started dating, that didn't mean it would work out happily ever after. Ian and Gabbie were great friends before they let hormones and expectations get the better of them. And in this case, breaking up or getting a divorce (if we let the relationship go so far as to marriage) is not going to set us back on track like it did for our mother. I'm pretty sure that once you're a Cullen, it's irreversible. _

_Evan has a good plan. He has the only plan, The Plan. Friends Forever. I grow old and he doesn't, but we continue be platonic soul mates, kindred spirits, middle of the night phone buddies, and so forth. But I will be a free agent, an independent woman, able to blissfully pursue my dreams unfettered. This inconvenient reality is placing my happiness – no, my very sanity – in danger of being dependent upon his proximity._

_I have to stop this. I have to. But how do I go about doing that without losing the very friendship we hold dear?_

I didn't know, and that scared me shitless_._ But I got up and grabbed my bag anyways, resolved to act as if I did. I was going to make this work. One step at a time. One breath at a time. One endearingly cheeky grin at a time. I could do this. I may not be able to beat my _feelings _for Evan into submission, but I could certainly do so to my fears.

And eventually, maybe, I could paint them out and create an existential masterpiece.

Maybe. One day.

* * *

**AN: **Hee. Hee. Cadie + her word pictures + angst = oh so fun for me. You?


	32. Chapter 31 Something Wicked

Chapter 31 – Something Wicked …

"Yeah, Mom, the Autumn Festival went off without a hitch," _and hear it comes, the "I told you so…_"

"See, Honey, all that worrying was for nothing just like I said," Gabby predictably asserted.

"Mhmm," I agreed. It had indeed gone well. Most of everything that I had made a contribution to, sold, earning me a tidy sum that was going to my college/Europe fund. Ian did rather well too, which I can attest to as I had worked every Saturday morning of his very own booth.

The booths were set up all down Main Street in front of the stores and on the lawns of those who agreed to it, which was nearly everybody. The town square had pavilions set up with food provided by various local restaurants. Local musicians played in the evenings around dinner time; otherwise, CD mixes of popular music starting back from the town's founding were played over the speakers. A maze was set up on the nearby elementary school's field along with various funhouses and games, a merry-go-round, and a Ferris wheel. Of course, the old town tour was conducted twice a day, every morning and evening.

I had also been roped into working Tink's booth every Saturday afternoon, where he was selling his various welding creations. They were quite beautiful in their uniqueness. They ranged from airplanes and automobiles to animals such as wolves and mountain lions and ducks as wall art or as statues of all sizes and were made from metal scraps. I suggested for next year that he branch out into jewelry like earrings and necklaces, but I don't know if he will as his fingers are rather big. Zach seemed interested though, so maybe next year.

"So what did you do for fun at this festival? I know that you had to have been doing something in the evenings and on Sunday as you haven't called me until now," she teasingly chided.

"Well, the first weekend I spent it with Zach and his gang, and Ian, for a little bit. We, I mean us 'kids,' ran through the maze playing tag in the dark and challenged each other to the various games that were offered."

"Did you win anything?"

"Yeah, we did. They weren't really that hard. Morgan won a giant stuffed purple elephant that he was going to give to his little sister, and Zach won a little stuffed lion, which he gave to me. But I earned us free drinks from the archery games," I couldn't help but gloat.

"Due to all that practice in gym class, I suppose?"

"Probably," I affirmed, before moving on, "And on the following Friday night, I spent it with Regan. She had me as her little errand girl, while she set up shots for the school paper and did interviews. It was fun. I got to joke with Mrs. Humphreys, you know, the bed-and-breakfast owner and mother of Alan, Ian's poker buddy, as she rocked in her chair on her front porch and knitted." I paused significantly then to tease, "And I heard some interesting tales about Old Tink, Ian, Alan, and _you_ …"

"Oh dear, I don't want to know," she declared between bouts of nervous laugher. "What did you do the rest of the weekend?"

I agreed to the subject change and continued with my report, "Saturday night I was with Maggie, Dani, and Jeremy and we listened to the bands for that weekend. They weren't too bad, and on Sunday those three, Regan, Zach, and I did karaoke."

"No! Not my daughter!" she exclaimed in mock horror.

"Yes, I was peer-pressured into singing 'That's Amore' with them," I said waffling between amusement and embarrassment. Evan happened to be there to witness it.

"Poor baby, were you booed off the stage?" she queried unsympathetically.

"O ye of little faith, of course not. They loved us!" I laughingly added, "Especially, after the little pre-teen group got done singing 'Lady Marmalade.'"

"Did you plan it that way or was it a fortuitous circumstance?"

"Leave something like this to chance? I don't think so!"

"That's my girl!" she crowed, truly pleased.

"That's what I-Dad said," I informed her with a smirk, which I was glad that she could not see.

"So did you have a light homework load that weekend? Because it sounds like you weren't home at all," she questioned as only mothers would.

"Not really, I had to do most of it during the week before and the rest when I got home." I rushed to add, "But don't tell Ian! He was sort of under the impression that it was one of those 'fortuitous circumstances.'"

"Cadie! You are going to make yourself sick again, if you aren't careful," she scolded.

"I know, I know. That's what Evan keeps telling me…" I sighed.

She let it go by asking, "So speaking of Evan, did you hang out with him at all this past month?"

"Yeah, I did, but not until the fourth weekend," I informed her.

If it hadn't been for those damn oppressive clouds, which didn't make good on their promise of precipitation, I could have avoided him for yet another weekend. The Festival had experienced three weeks of glorious sunshine, which had forced the Cullens to come up with some creative excuses as to why they weren't able to participate in the festivities. One of them had been that they were visiting Emmett and Rosalie at their university. My busyness with the Festival and the need to stay on top of my homework without distractions had provided me additional excuses to not hang out with Evan outside of school.

One may ask why I felt that avoiding Evan was the wisest course of action to take in dealing with my Dilemma, as I so "fondly" called it. And while I would agree with assertion that it wasn't the wisest and best option out there, I have yet to discover what that is. So until I do, keeping my distance is what I have done in the interim.

I continued my narrative, hoping that my intuitive mother would not detect the false enthusiasm that I was projecting. "Nessie, Jacob, and I hung out on the weekend of the twenty-second. We booth shopped, played the games, wandered the maze, rode the merry-go-round and the Ferris Wheel – twice, and had a personal private tour conducted by Zach, ending in the cathedral."

"Oh my, that sounds interesting," she enthused.

I chuckled, (and it didn't sound too hollow to my ears), "Yeah, it was. He had Morgan and Louie demonstrate what was going to be done on the night of All Hallow's Eve. It was very spooky. Especially, since he was telling us the stories of the various phantoms of the District."

"Hmm, I bet he is an accomplished story-teller, if he took after his mother at all in that respect. Elaine was very good at creeping us out at campfire nights," she recalled, and then she returned to the present and asked, "So how was Halloween?"

"It was good. The Scare Fest brought in a lot of tourists so that was good for the town's economy, I guess. Nessie made me wear a costume and did my make up, so I looked like a banshee for the day."

"Don't those have like green-tinged skin?"

"Yeah, and long dark hair. It took her like an hour to straighten it to her satisfaction. She took pictures with my new camera so I'll send them to you."

I had her come over to my house to get ready. Not only was I avoiding Evan, but I was also steering clear of Edward and Jasper. I didn't know if my personal interference would shield my deep, dark secret from their highly inconvenient and uncanny ESP skills. It just would not do for them to inadvertently discover it and tell Evan before I had figured how to adapt my life to accommodate the Truth and resolve my Dilemma.

"Did they have the annual dance?" My mom queried, cutting into my thoughts.

"Yes, and I managed not to break anyone's toes." Only because Evan and everyone in his family are accomplished dancers, and – well, unbreakable.

The damned clouds had allowed the Cullens to be there that last weekend, and they apparently felt the need to make up for their previous absences. They passed me around the whole night from one person to the next. I would almost say they hustled me like I was some rag doll in a childish game of keep away, except for the fact that I was being handled more like a delicate porcelain figurine as they twirled me around the dance floor.

"Well, I'm glad you are having a good time and have made friends while you are there, sweetie."

"Thanks, Mom. But I take it you have to go?" I asked sensing the lead-in to a goodbye.

"Yes, Mark and I have a dinner with the McKinneys. He's hoping to woo them into displaying some painting or other of theirs and thinks that I can help."

Suspecting that she was trying not to blush at this latest compliment from her new husband, I teased, "Well, go and charm their socks off. I'm sure Mark is right."

"Thank you, dear. Same time, next week?"

"Yes, unless I tell you otherwise." I agreed, and then we made our goodbyes.

Once I hung up the phone, I lay back on my bed and reminisced about that last night. It had had its moments of fun. Because everyone looked a bit off due to their costumes and make-up jobs and the already eerie lighting, the Cullens didn't look too out of place and inhuman. When Evan had seen me singing karaoke, he had been hidden in the shadows. It had been only by chance or the fact that I had become so attuned to his presence that I was able to spot him at all.

I had been awkwardly sitting and eating dinner with Ian and some woman that he knew through his business somehow, when Evan came to rescue me by asking me to dance. It tells you how desperate I was that I accepted without protest. He was very graceful and counted out the steps for me as he led me along. It wasn't too necessary for him to do that, but I used my slight embarrassment about my less than spectacular dance skills as an excuse for my rapidly beating heart.

Jasper asked for the second dance. I think it was at the request of Evan so that he could prove to me that his friend bore no ill will towards me. It was a nice gesture, even if it did make me feel a little awkward. Although Emmett has the more intimidating physique, Jasper generally tends to make me more nervous when I'm in his presence. And even more so now.

Emmett was not there though and neither was Rosalie, for they were supposed to be in Toronto for their first year of college. Nessie told me when I got the chance to ask her that the two of them were using this time to go hunting, "among other things." Her imitation of Emmett's eyebrow wiggling when he was making a suggestive remark made me laugh rather than blush as I would have done had he been there to make it.

I also danced with Carlisle and Edward before I was passed back to Evan, and then Zach had his turn as well. Ian and Old Tink cut in before he could pass me on to Morgan and Louie. They eventually got to demonstrate their moves, but only after Jeremy and Max did. Max with much more skill and less damage to my toes.

I got to dance the last dance with Evan though. It was a slow dance and the music was low, so conversation without the need to shout was possible. I took my head off of his shoulder to look up and ask him, "Why did you come tonight? You didn't have to. I know that you don't do dances."

I had been counting on him not being there. I still was unsure whether I was happy or disappointed that I had been proven wrong.

He smiled affectionately, clarifying, "I don't 'do' couple-oriented dances. This is a friends-and-family-good-times type of dance, much different and more fun."

"Cheap too," I quipped slyly, without thinking.

He laughed, "There is that."

"What, no denial?"

"Nope, I'm a cheap date," he admitted unabashedly, and then winced at his poor choice of words.

I decided not to let my mind wander at the possible implications of that, and instead chose to keep the banter going. "Well, in that case, don't expect anything from me. I'm the kind of girl who only puts out for the choicest steak and lobster kind of meal."

"Duly noted," he grinned. He spun me out then, before asking me, "So now that you are done with this whole shindig, are you going to relax?"

"If by relax, you mean only focusing on one project at a time, then yes," I thoughtfully hedged.

He looked at me with quizzical expression and sighed long-sufferingly, "Dare I ask?"

"What my next project is? Thought you never would, because I need your help with it," I prattled. (I couldn't avoid him forever, and I was under no allusion that I wanted to.) I elaborated with continued chirpiness, "It's a Christmas gift for your family, and I need your opinion on colors."

"You are actually going to let me see one of your creations _before_ it is finished?" he asked incredulously.

"No," I scoffed. "But you'll get the general idea of it before anyone else sees it."

That seemed to mollify him before he could get too outraged that I was using him on my own terms. I knew it wouldn't last though. I was going to have to fight him every step of the way as I worked on the painting. Before I would have looked forward to our time of verbal sparring with pure exhilaration, but now, it was marred by my confusion and ever increasing sense of dread.

Dread, because I knew as winter came on and my excuses ran out, Evan would notice my reluctance to be alone in his presence and would no longer be able to chalk it up as following his advice to live life more moderately – if he hadn't already. I was beginning to suspect that he had. More and more frequently I detected fleeting expressions of hurt flash across his face before a mask of nonchalance covered it up after I would turn down yet another invite to come over to his house to do homework together or to have another cello lesson.

My heart ached for him. It truly did, but until I had learned how to maintain my balance on this tightrope of a relationship before me, I would continue to have my padding of emotional space. One word or touch from him, and I might plummet to the abyss below.

However, despite the emotional turmoil I had experienced from my near Evan-less month, I did learn a few things that gave me hope.

I learned that the world truly does not come to an end when one cannot express their feelings for another. Moreover, it is possible to do more than _endure_ it; life can be _enjoyed_, at least for small moments in time.

I hold on to this revelation like a chocoholic to a coupon for free brownies at her favorite bakery during a long stint on the Atkins diet. For the only way I am going to survive this is to take it one day at a time...

* * *

When I initiated that conversation with Cadie after the baseball game, I knew I would be met with resistance. I was not prepared for the verbal lashing that I received, however, and nor was I prepared for it to be about my talent. But what really threw me for a loop was how that conversation ended and her behavior since.

She was teasing me one moment, and then the next, she was abruptly saying goodnight and practically slamming the door in my face. And this cycle has continued since then. I know I'm probably partly to blame as I am the one who told her that she was being a little too clingy, (at least in retrospect, that is how I think my words could have been interpreted), but it's been a month and she's still waffling between being the old, warm and teasing Cadie and this new, more reserved and standoffish one that snaps at the slightest little irritation and invasion of space. I thought my reassurances about the future would have smoothed things over, but as it didn't, I'm just not sure what else I can do to help her.

Correction: I'm not sure what I _should _do now that I am no longer in denial about my more-than-friends feelings for her.

I don't know. It's probably best that I let her put some space between us, that we don't pass notes constantly throughout physics, English, and calculus, and that we don't hang out every day after school and practically every weekend. But … I want to call her out on her bullshit. I want to return to the easy camaraderie that I shared with a girl mature beyond her years but who still was quite in touch her inner child. Instead, I'm stuck with a friend who acts her age – a teenager, a moody one at that.

_A leithéid de phrácás_!

On a more positive note, in matters concerning Cadie's physical well-being, this past month went rather well, I thought. Cadie didn't suffer any horrible catastrophes in her physic's lab. (This was mainly because I insisted on being her lab partner for the semester, if not year.) She got over her cold and got her voice back, despite her best efforts. No creeper calls. No dates with final destiny. It was a good month.

In hindsight, this would have been the appropriate moment to have followed Cadie's example and knocked on wood. _In hindsight..._

* * *

**AN: **Gaelic translation of _A leithéid de phrácás = What a mess_

Will be updating soon...So any guesses as to why Evan feels the need to 'stoop' to superstitious practices?


	33. Chapter 32 This Way Comes

Chapter 32 - …This Way Comes

There I sat blithely consoling myself with the fact that despite Cadie's emotional issues, she was at least physically whole, well, and safe. My presence in her life had at least brought her that much.

What a fool. The Powers That Be never let someone such as I remain in contentment for long, and I _had_ to tempt them.

Jasper came out and joined me on the balcony to interrupt my contemplations and challenge me to a poker game. I accepted, partly for the need of a distraction and partly because I knew I should take advantage of this while Alice was preoccupied with Bella downstairs with something or other and thus she wouldn't be tempted to cheat for him.

We were into our third hand, when Jacob came tearing in from the woods, tying his drawstring pants at the waist as he went.

Edward burst out the front door, yelling, "What is it? Think clearly, Black. I can't understand you!"

Jacob glowered at him for a good long moment and then asked out loud, "How is that possible?"

Edward's face went from frustration to disbelief to grim nothingness. In response, he said, "I don't know."

Bella came out then and anxiously questioned, looking back and forth between her husband and friend, "What is it? What's going on? Alice says that we need to meet in the dining room. She's really upset."

When Jasper heard this, he took off to join her. I soon followed suit.

Esme, Carlisle, and Nessie were already in there when we arrived, and Rosalie and Emmett quickly joined us. We took our seats, never removing our gazes from Jacob as he told his tale.

"I was walking back to my apartment from the Festival when I caught a whiff of one you, but not one of you, if you get my drift," he began significantly. "I thought that maybe I hadn't gotten the memo from Alice or that one of them had made a split second decision and it just didn't register on her radar. Either way I decided to follow it."

He paused then and looked to me regretfully, "The trail led to Cadie's house."

I put my head in my hands in despair, but then he sympathetically continued, "It gets worse, Evan. The scent was strongest just underneath her window, as if someone had stood there for a few minutes, before resuming. It led through the back of her property to the creek and eventually I decided to back off until I had some assistance."

"How old is the trail?" Nessie asked anxiously.

"A few days," he reported.

"How did this happen?" I finally looked up and asked Alice.

Jasper frowned at me for my accusatory tone, but frankly, I didn't care. Cadie was in danger, and Alice hadn't forewarned me when she should have. She wrinkled her brow in frustration and sighed, "I don't know. It could have been like Jacob said, and whoever it is made a split second decision. I'm not infallible…" Her face relaxed a little, "But since I have been focusing on the Volturi specifically, lately, I don't think whoever this is, is in connection with them."

"So far," Rosalie inserted. "Her scent is intermingled with ours all over the place. Whoever this is could eventually decide to report our indiscretion to them."

"They might just move on though…" was Esme's hopeful contribution.

"Not if they have taken an interest in her like Jacob thinks it has," I wearily reasoned.

"What do you want to do?" Carlisle gently questioned me.

I thought about it for a moment and then replied, "What I want to do is grab her and take her away from here as far as I can. That's my instinctual desire. However, I know that such a plan wouldn't be very helpful." I sighed and rubbed my hand over my face. "So I'll probably do what I did the last time she had a stalker… This time it should be easier as its scent will give him away."

"That still doesn't solve the problem Rosalie brought up," Jacob pointed out, always the devil's advocate.

"Well, if she becomes an obsession of our rogue wanderer, then we'll know where to find it before it can do any damage," Edward stated logically.

Emmett let out a low chuckle of eager anticipation, and I nodded grimly, determined not to let Cadie's position as bait be an extended one. Especially, since her strange behavior towards me was going to make keeping her safe far more difficult than it already was.

* * *

"Why again do you think this nomad is fixated on me again?" Cadie asked, still seeming to be unable to process what we had just told her.

"The _bloodsucker_ followed you from downtown, bypassed more convenient targets, and stood beneath your window for a significant amount of time," Jacob answered, rehashing for the third time his conclusions from his olfactory investigations.

"I understood _that_," she retorted. "What I don't understand is why it is that you think he, it, whatever, will come back…?"

"You know the story of my mom and dad. Your kind has a rare and occasional extra-draw or excessive attraction for a certain individual," Nessie explained.

Still in denial, she protested weakly, "But that was like Fate or something …"

"It doesn't only apply to couples," Nessie corrected. "I mean look at you and – " I quickly kicked her from underneath the kitchen table to stop her, and she quickly but clumsily did an about-face, "Oh! That doesn't quite work as an example, does it? Er – well, Alice! Yes, Alice was like my mother, in that she smelled exceptionally, um, desirable, and in order to save her from James, this old vampire turned her…"

I groaned in misery then. I had asked Jacob and Nessie to help me break the news of this latest threat to Cadie, because I knew she wouldn't take it well. I wanted Jacob's experience in this area of vampire stalkers and Nessie's charm to work its magic on her to comfort her and ensure that she would take our safety protocols seriously, instead of assuming I was being overly paranoid and paternal towards her. I was beginning to regret that decision.

Cadie rolled her eyes at my dramatics and chided, "Oh hush, Evan. I need to hear these things, even if they are rather unpleasant." Turning to Jacob, she questioned, "So you feel it is a distinct possibility that I'm the favored entrée of some unknown vampire and you want me to avoid making any spontaneous decisions that could hinder whatever safety precautions you and Evan have made on my behalf?"

"Yes," he agreed, relieved that this was not as difficult as I had predicted it would be.

She nodded and took a deep breath, "Okay, I can do that."

"Good," he stated in satisfaction, "It's greatly appreciated."

"No problem," she smiled wanly. "But I do have a question…" She paused to look at us all before continuing, "What if you are wrong? What if this is something other than a passing nomad catching my scent and liking it so much that he now has to hunt me despite being in a large coven's territory?"

"It doesn't really matter why it is here, Cadie," I firmly stated. "If it makes a move on you, the family will deal with it."

"Very Sopranos of you," she scoffed, but it was with a lot less acrimony than she normally would have had. I didn't know if this was because she was grateful for the reassurance I had given her and this was just token protest or she was too scared and tired to put her desired amount of spite behind the comment. As a result, I decided to not make my usual witty reply to her commentary.

"There's no need to worry," Nessie reassured. "Jacob and the family are very good at what they do. This will all go away in no time."

"Emmett and I even have a bet on to see who can resolve the matter the quickest," Jake jovially added.

Her eyes got wide at this, and she looked to me imploringly. Not sure exactly what she was trying to communicate, I decided to cut this little chat short by saying, "Alright then, thanks for your help you two, but I think there is a project that Cadie wanted to work on that we're keeping her from."

They took the hint, bade their goodbyes, and quickly left, which was unusual on Nessie's part, but she was a smart girl and was able to realize that she and the Mutt had really screwed it up.

Once they had left, Cadie voiced her concern, "They aren't considering this to be a game, are they?"

"No, no!" I hastily replied, "No, they take your safety as seriously as I do. They're just able to find a small amount of enjoyment in the task."

"I'm not concerned about my safety!" she irritably exclaimed. "They could get hurt if they get too busy trying to rack up points for some silly competition. None of you know what to expect from whoever it is out there. I don't want any of you getting careless – "

"Relax," I hastily cut in. "Nessie was right. We do know what we are doing. There are ten of us, if you count Nessie, and we watch each other's backs. I didn't want to worry you at all about this, but it was pointed out to me that you had a right to know and it would be beneficial if you were aware so that you could be extra cautious."

"Which was the winning argument, I presume," she stated knowingly.

I smiled. If she was back to harassing me about my zealousness for her safety, then she would be alright, "Of course."

She snorted, and then sighed, "Not to be a party pooper but I don't think I'm in the mood to work on that project. Maybe next time?" She paused, and then hastily asked after nibbling on her lip anxiously, "There will be a next time, won't there?"

"Yes, there will be," I confirmed softly. "Why wouldn't there be?"

"I was just thinking that it would be bad for you if whoever it is noticed that you were on familiar terms with me…if word got back to the wrong people…"

I smiled, "It's too late for that really, so we might as well not act as if we feel guilty. We're also hoping that our close personal contact might dissuade whoever it is from pursuing you."

I knew this was not very reassuring, but I was kind of hoping that it would be enough to stop her from worrying on her lip. No such luck.

She finally broke the silence, voicing her newest area of anxiety, "What if this person is like James? What if he tries to use Ian or Gabby or one of my friends to lure me away? You know that I'll pull a Bella in such a circumstance."

"No, I didn't know," I challenged. "I was hoping that you would learn from her mistake and tell us if something went down like that."

She nodded, hopefully agreeing to such a method of response. I continued as if she had, in any case, and answered her original questions, "We have also planned for such a circumstance. I used my 'influence' in the school's office and had them seal your records. They are unattainable, as in I have the only copies. So your mom's home address is safe. We have also added your father and the Daniels to our priority persons list. Jacob will be watching over Zach and his father. Your school friends shouldn't attract any attention to the nomad because we also won't be allowing it anywhere near there. Rosalie and Emmett were assigned that duty."

"Okay," she breathed. "I can see that you have covered as many of the bases as I can ask for. Thank you. I'm sorry to be such a bother." Her eyes were beginning to sink a little into her head from the exhaustion this weighty conversation was producing in her.

I reached across the table and tucked a strand behind her ear, trailing my finger down her cheek to her chin, before tucking it under and lifting it a little. "Chin-up, Cadie, _mo chridhe_. You are **never** a bother. Emmett thinks you've spiced up life a little, and even Jasper has decided that you are providing him a chance to fulfill his chivalrous calling as a southern gentleman."

She seemed to need to take a moment to collect herself, but she eventually replied, quite sardonically, "Hmm, I'm glad to be of service, then."

I smiled and said, "Good! Any questions, comments, rapturous applauses that you would like to make?"

She thought about it and then said wearily, "None that I can think of. Thanks again, Evan."

"No problem," was my heartfelt reply and then I made my way to the door so that she could recover from the blow that I had just dealt her.

* * *

Once Evan left, I sagged against the breakfast table we had been sitting at for that entire exchange. Who would have thought that I would have gone from speculating on Ian's strange behavior to worrying about some nameless and thankfully for now faceless vampire?

It was just too much. I couldn't process it; still can't. It didn't make sense to me that a nomadic vampire with a normal vampire diet would seek out this small little town that I had chosen to reside. It made sense that the Cullens had chosen so, because they were trying to blend into humanity and avoid those of their kind who were naturally attracted to large populations. It made sense that whoever this was might want to visit with such a large coven. But he, it, she, whatever, hadn't.

It also didn't make sense that I, a mere mortal, was trying to fathom the reasoning of a bloodsucking monstrosity to use Jake's terminology.

I decided to focus on much more trivial but far less ulcer-inducing topics, such as why Evan became so bothered by Nessie's answer to my question about vampire fixations. He obviously didn't want her to connect our names together as a couple, which was depressing.

It was interesting to hear how Alice became turned, if a little creepy. I would prefer that not to be my story if I ever do become one of them. I would want my conversion to be a choice, not a necessity in order to avoid an even more hideous fate. How morbid.

It was also slightly amusing that Evan made a big deal out of telling me as if he was afraid that I would resist their security precautions. I don't like being a damsel-in-distress that constantly needs to be rescued as he so frequently likes to cast me, but I do recognize that this a situation in which I do need their help. I might have to tone down my habitual protestations just a smidge, so that there doesn't need to be a committee every time this comes up.

I assume there will be more such occurrences as these, since Bella had to endure them. It seems to be the price that has to be paid for being gifted with their acquaintance. And I did consider it a gift to be their friend, even though it threatened my very existence. I loved them all, especially Evan (obviously) and Nessie, and I didn't want any of them hurt on my behalf. However, this seemed to be beyond my control.

I must say though, that if there is to be anymore of these little bad-news committees, I pray that Evan doesn't replace these two with Edward or Jasper. For goodness gracious, if they had been there what would they have thought of me then? The whole time they were explaining that some monster was after me, I was only bemoaning the fact that Evan was going to be closer than ever now.

I'm not sure my heart can take that.

The whole point of suddenly morphing into a swot, who can't stop taking down lecture notes when I previously did less-than-studious note-taking, was to subtly hint to him that we were on the outs. On several occasions in these past few weeks, I have overtly hinted at this fact by snapping at him for no apparent reason.

Just the other day, he asked solicitously for the third time, if I was alright, I retorted, almost waspishly: "Yes, Evan, I realize that the descriptive of 'fine' is too generic, because it ranges from fair to adequate to excellent. But just so you know, the more you ask it, the more I begin to wonder if I look like death warmed over. Is that the case?"

He responded in the negative, so I curtly replied, "Jolly good. I'm all right then. Subject closed." We walked into calculus and didn't exchange a word until the end of the day, when he asked me if I had time to come over for a cello lesson - which I, of course, didn't, because I'm not fine.

I mean, if I was _fine_, then when Evan was trying to comfort me right before he left with that little hair-to-chin thing, I wouldn't have desperately wanted to climb up into his lap and snuggle in, until his radiance had permeated my very soul. (And, yes, I'm absolutely sure that such a procedure is possible.) A person who was _fine_ wouldn't be more scared of her own emotions than she is of a blood-lusting demon.

_Merde_, I groaned, banging my head against the breakfast table. _I am such a mess!_

* * *

**AN: **French to English translation of _mo chridhe = my heart_

Okay, so you all have been experiencing the lovely benefits of my slight case of insomnia and severe case of procrastination. But as the semester draws to a close and crunch time hits, the updating is going to be less frequent, just to forewarn you. But, like I said, I'm like a procrastinator on steroids, so don't lose hope or grow bored with waiting.

Anywho, let me know what you think, por favor!


	34. Chapter 33 Fortunato's Fate

Chapter 33 – Fortunato's Fate

After the big hullabaloo about the mysterious unknown creeper of a vampire, nothing happened. Life continued on, and I decided to push that concern to the back of my mind. What bothered me more was the fact that my Aunt Martha, my dad's great aunt, had spontaneously decided to organize a family reunion. As we were the centrally located residence and this was the family's original hometown, we were to host it. Ian and I ran around like mad cleaning up the house and stocking up in the kitchen in order to prepare for our guests. Evan wasn't too happy with the timing, and quite frankly neither was I, but Aunt Martha is the modern day Lady Catherine de Bourgh of our family - possibly worse, like the Red Queen, shouting "Off with their heads" if we gainsayed her. I'm pretty attached to mine, so... hence the madness.

In the midst of this, I was filling out college applications to various schools and all that jazz - just in case, I decided to pursue the academic side of my possible plans for the future.

When the family did make their arrival, I was designated the family babysitter and placed in charge of all my various cousins, whom I had not even known existed. It was a hellish week, which was extremely poor in weather, thus, requiring me to keep the kids inside. This resulted in the necessity for several hospital visits, and for once, they were not for me.

What made matters worse was that Ian kept sneaking off like a teenager, leaving me to play host. I could have forgiven him, if he had run off to hang out with his buddies, because then I would have known where he was. Instead, after calling Old Tink, Alan, and the rest of his poker guys, I had to learn his whereabouts from Mrs. Tyler. She was very upset that "our" plans for Ian and her sister seemed futile as he was currently sitting at "that new hoity-toity coffee shop" with "that lady he does business with" from the next town over in the most "un-businesslike manner." Thankfully, one of my more precocious cousins had enough of her shrill whine and pulled the plug on the phone before I had to endure another minute of her anti-mixing-of-business-with-pleasure lecture.

Don't get me wrong. I was happy for my dad that he was finally seeing someone, and that he was seeing someone that was clever and appreciated him, like Ms. Sukey Madison. However, he could have had better timing in pursuing her.

My extended family finally left, giving me the opportunity to rest.

Just in time to endure the most awkward conversation with Jacob Black.

I had spent the afternoon with Nessie at the Tinker Shop attempting to avoid her conversational traps into discussing my feelings for Evan. It would have been a relief to talk it over with her. She knew him, and she knew me almost as well as Evan or Zach did. I just didn't want her to get my hopes up that it would all work out. She was a hopeless romantic, probably because four Happily-Ever-After couples surrounded her.

I was not able to do so with Jacob.

He took me home that night as Evan was out hunting and cut right to the chase, "Cadie, as you can probably tell Nessie suspects that you are in love with Evan. I need to know if you are."

"Oh really?" was all that I could fathom to ask.

He glared at me for quite some time, making me squirm a little. (Thankfully, we had been stopped at a red light.) He finally explained his cryptic comment, "I need to know because otherwise the following conversation will be a waste of both our times. So, are you in love with Evan?"

I couldn't get passed the lump in my throat to answer. It was one thing to admit it to myself. It was another to admit it to Jake, of all people, despite the fact that he's generally an easy _guy_ to talk to.

He sighed in frustration when he took in my expression, which I assume included me being bug-eyed in horror. "You got it bad, don't you?"

I managed to swallow the lump and croak out, "Yes."

"What is it with you people?" he growled out, low and underneath his breath.

I made a face and snapped back, "What is that supposed to mean?"

"I mean, you girls falling in love with things that you shouldn't. What's wrong with normal human beings?"

"There's nothing wrong with them - er - us, whatever. Evan and Edward just happen to be easy people to love, I guess," I defended, hoping not to have to go into the mushy details of why. "Anyways, look who is talking," I challenged.

"My situation and yours are totally different. I imprinted on her. You have a choice," he clarified.

Evan had explained to me about imprinting, so I knew what he was talking about. I wasn't sure it was a valid argument, however. "That's debatable," I muttered, but I did feel guilty for using a touchy subject of his in defense of mine, so I apologized, "I'm sorry, Jake. I shouldn't have mentioned it."

He waved it off, saying, "No problem. But what exactly about my statement is 'debatable'?"

I sighed, "Some say that one cannot help who they love, while others disagree, such as yourself apparently."

He squirmed a little at that observation, indicating that he might be acting the hypocrite at the moment. Despite this moment of self-revelation, he pressed, "Where do you find yourself?"

I thought about it for a moment as he pulled into my driveway. When we had came to a stop and the car was placed in park, I answered, "I'm a little of both. I believe that people can develop feelings for another, but eventually it comes to a point where you're forced to decide if you want to continue down that road or if you want to verge away from the path of deepening the emotional attachment, and I believe one can do so as long as they stay committed to their decisions."

He smiled a little, "You and your fork-in-the-road analogies." More seriously, he probed, "Have you made your decision yet on that point?"

I shrugged, "I have come to the realization that I am at that point, but which road I take largely depends on him."

"And if he wants to deepen the relationship, will you _go all the way_?"

I laughed at his euphemism, but knowing what he really meant, I refrained from teasing him about how paternal he sounded. Instead, I replied, "I don't know. A part of me wants to. It would be an adventure, if I am to judge by what I have experienced in the past few months. However, I … I just don't know…"

"You know, the road with him wouldn't be so unpredictable or grand. It would be filled with decades of high school and some college, moving from place to place, only having a small group of friends that hardly ever change, secrets, lies, and eating _animals - _if you are lucky. … Don't view that life with rose-colored glasses, Cadie," he forewarned.

He had a point, but it was a moot one. The people who needed to be discussing this weren't. I was a coward and knew it was not going to be me who initiated that conversation. So I nodded and said, "Thanks," before going in.

* * *

It was my first weekend free and was in good health. I was going to celebrate it by staying in my pajamas all sixty-three hours, starting from four o'clock Friday afternoon until seven o'clock Monday morning. First, however, I needed to go to the store and buy coffee grounds. Only the bare necessities were needed for this weekend of pure relaxation.

I bolted from my government and economics class to the Hearse, not even stopping to acknowledge everyone's goodbyes. Evan knew my plans already so he had scheduled his weekend accordingly. I think he said that he was going to work on his own Christmas project. I hoped that was true, because I didn't want him to be sitting outside my window hovering over me in case the boogey-vamp came back. I also sincerely hoped that he had not recruited anyone else to take over that chore.

I had made this fervent desire of mine blatantly clear when we were discussing my plans for the weekend.

Evan had greeted me as I got out of my car this morning with cheery, "Morning glorious, Sunshine!"

My typical non-morning person grunt of acknowledgment caused him to ask the question that I despised above all others in polite society. His chipper expression fell as he asked, "Cadie, are you alright?"

I responded with far more force than was necessary, but on top of everything else, I resented the fact that we were so far out of step with each other that he constantly felt the need to ask. And what he was really asking was if we were alright. I wasn't and we weren't, but I couldn't tell him the core reason, so I spouted off the superficial ones, (in hushed tones, of course).

"No, Evan, I'm not 'alright.' I'm not 'fine,' 'excellent,' remotely 'adequate,' or even 'fair.' I'm not 'just dandy' or 'peachy keen' either. I have just been inundated with relatives that I barely know. My father has a new girlfriend, for which I was frequently left me alone to deal with said relatives. And because of this new state of affairs, I have earned the wrath of Mrs. Tyler, which is something that I didn't need because I apparently have become a fixation of one of the predators of all mother-effing predators. And on top of that I haven't yet had a moment of peace and relaxation, which _you_ have been nagging me about, because _you_ also are insisting on having me accompanied everywhere. I'm _acutely_ conscious of this fact even when I _piss_ because I know that you and whoever of your family that you have standing guard outside my house can probably hear it!"

"Is there anything _reasonable _that I can do to help?" he asked calmly.

I hated myself then for being so spiteful towards him when he was being so good and patient with me, but at the same time the word "reasonable" got under my skin. "Reasonable" meant that he would not be calling off The Patrol. But I asked anyways.

He never told me that he would or wouldn't, and I suspected that he didn't. He didn't even really speak to me all day. (I suspect out of irritation with my ingratitude.) But I at least got to drive home without someone tailing me all the way there. I, particularly, didn't like it when it was Rosalie's turn, because she practically rode my ass when she did it.

Anyways, I went to the store, got my desired product, paid, and was on my way. I was so busy mentally debating about whether I should take a bubble bath or just stoke the fireplace to blazing warmth and read that I forgot to take the north bridge instead of the south.

I did remember that I had promised to do so when the clouds that had been threatening a downpour all day finally unleashed their torrential rain. I floored it in order to make up for it, reasoning that Evan would appreciate the fact that I had spent less time on the dangerous bridge than I normally would have.

This rationalization of reckless driving saved my life.

I had just made it to the other side and was beginning my journey up the mountain, when I felt an ominous vibration through the floor boards of my car and heard a devastating rumble from behind me. I looked in my rear view mirror and saw the bridge slide into the ravine below.

The rains had finally done what Evan had predicted. They had softened the ground so much that the very foundations of the bridge had dissolved.

The rain had, of course, now slowed its intensity once the damage had been done, so I pulled over and got out to investigate. I did not know if someone had been behind me as I had been so caught up in my own little world. To rectify this mistake, I grabbed the binoculars from my glove compartment and trained them to the wreckage below.

That was when I saw it: the back half of what looked to be a red hatchback and on the top of it was what looked to be a pink tassel and metal bar that are usually a part of a little girl's bicycle.

I checked the reception on my phone, but it was unsurprisingly nonexistent. Not being able to do just nothing and unwilling to leave a little girl and whoever might have been with her trapped and alone, I raced to the back of the Hearse, opened it, and pulled out my emergency blanket and flashlight.

I knew that there was a trail that led down to the ravine nearby. I found it eventually and made my way safely to the bottom. It was partially covered from all the recent rain, but there was enough space from the water's edge and the sides of the ravine that I was able to make it to the rubble.

Shivering from the cold, I flashed my light around calling, "Hello! Is anyone down here? Are you alright?!"

The car with the bicycle was difficult to reach so I made my way carefully over to it, trying not to disturb anything unless I caused more harm than good, when I thought that I heard a noise over to my right, closer to the ravine wall. It was something like a whine or a whimper coming from beneath a large slab of concrete. I was peering into it trying to see movement when another ominous rumble could be heard, and then it went pitch black.

* * *

I was talking to Esme in the kitchen when Alice let out a strangled gasp from the next room over. We went in to investigate and discovered her absolutely still, except for her cursing under her breath. Her face was set in a pained, frustrated, and horrified expression all at once. Edward must have picked up on her thoughts and let Jasper know, because he was at her side trying to soothe her almost immediately, even though he had been outside.

"Alice…Is it?" Edward asked, obviously disturbed by whatever images she was seeing in her mind's eye.

She looked at him sharply and cryptically answered, "Do you mean – is it black, white, and red all over? No, it's not."

He looked at me oddly and sighed with relief.

Alice finally calmed down enough to look at me and say apologetically, "I'm sorry, Evan … I can't … Whatever it is about her that interferes with my perception of her … I can't see clearly…She was fine, driving home…and then it gets all fragmented…She's either walking somewhere or … or she's surrounded by darkness…"

"Where?! Where is she when she's driving?" I asked frantically, fearing all the while that I knew the answer.

She looked devastated and hopeless, "I don't know."

I turned to Edward and projected the image of the south bridge area that I knew so well and asked, "Does this match up with what she sees?"

He furrowed his brow as he rapidly sifted through my memories and compared them to Alice's vision. He nodded and grabbed my shoulder before I could rush out the door, saying "I'll drive."

"Wait! Where are you going?" Esme cried.

"They're going to the south bridge near Cadie's house," Alice calmly told her. She then called after us, "I'll call the others and let them know where to go!"

I didn't take the time to thank her, but for once, I was deeply grateful for her and Edward's gift.

* * *

It was cold and damp. I couldn't see anything. Not that it was impossible to. I had my flashlight. I just didn't know how long I was going to be trapped, so I wanted to conserve the batteries. I had the blanket with me as well, but this was of no use as it had gotten wet when it fell into a puddle during the second avalanche.

I assumed that was what had caused my current predicament. Not that having an explanation was of any use to me at the moment.

The good news was that the air had not become stifling yet, so I also assumed that I had plenty of oxygen to last me until I was found.

I knew that I would be found. Ian would notice that I was not home, and he would call around. Someone would eventually take the road to the bridge and notice its collapse. Someone would eventually see my car, and if the rain hadn't erased my tracks completely they would notice that I had taken the path down.

Eventually…

* * *

The bridge was gone. Its entire support system had become destabilized, and it had collapsed in on itself dragging with it its sodden foundation.

I saw her car on the side of the road, and it was empty. I nearly lost it then and there in frustration and anxiety, but Jasper was able to break in and supplant it with necessary serenity.

Edward found the path that led down to the ravine floor, and although I could not comprehend why she would go and investigate the disaster on her own, I chose to traverse down it in the hopes that I was following in her footsteps. The alternative was that she was taken by someone when she pulled over, and that was not something that I wanted to consider.

I could hear sirens blaring from a distance as emergency vehicles began to arrive on the scene. As no one else was there, I assume Alice had called Carlisle and he had notified the appropriate personnel. I knew in case there were survivors besides Cadie that these would be of some use, but now they only served as a hindrance as we could not use our superhuman strength to lift the concrete obstacles out of our way.

As I examined the debris searching desperately for an idea as to where to start my search, the rest of the family joined us besides Carlisle.

Bella spotted it first, exclaiming, "Look! That's a girl's bike on top of that car!"

Our gazes followed along the path she was pointing, and sure enough there it was. Well, that explained why she came down here.

Emmett rumbled, "Why didn't she go for help?"

Both Nessie and Jacob snorted.

We made our way over to it, taking risks as we leaped and bounded over the ruins, as the emergency personnel had not yet arrived to witness such overt displays. Nothing indicated that she had been there yet though.

I looked to Alice trying not to panic, but she shook her head and said dismally, "Nothing."

* * *

I was now freezing and damp and scared. I could feel the temperature drop drastically as the sun receded behind the skyline. I imagined that it was a beautiful sunset as the fading light played off the clouds.

I was hungry too. I kept thinking of all that I could be doing if I had truly kept my promise. I could have been blissfully unaware that the forbidden route was no longer even an option. I could have been in a hot tub with scented bubbles and candles all around. I could have been reading the new murder mystery that Regan had loaned me. I could have been drinking coffee!

I groaned morosely at this. I wanted a hot cup of coffee so bad. I wanted my couch and the mountain of pillows and blankets that were guaranteed to provide warmth and comfort, and I wanted Evan sitting next to me, doing his hair thing, soothing me and telling me that it would be alright and then scolding me for my foolishness. If I couldn't have that, then I would settle for just a simple hug from Evan alone.

I smirked in the darkness at the reality of my pathetic-ness. Jacob was right: I had it bad. I found contact with a vampire's chilling personage more pleasant and necessary than warmth or even coffee. Eddie the Health Nut and Lover of Cold Weather and all its Outdoor Activities, who had been trying to wean me off my addiction and sell me on the joys of snowboarding, would owe me his Queen drumstick set.

The more immediate reality of my situation finally crashed through these musings –

I might be found, but the possibility of it being before it did me any good was rapidly decreasing. Thanks to Poe, I had always feared (probably far more than the average person) of sharing in the fate of Fortunato – death by immurement, but now, it seemed far more likely that I would die of hypothermia, rather than starvation or dehydration.

With each degree drop in temperature, the word "Nevermore!" rang through my mind like a nail being driven through my coffin.

* * *

We retraced our footsteps from the path that we thought she had taken to what we thought had been our goal and looked for where she could have deviated. Even though it was growing dark, our ability to do this task was not hindered.

No, the thing that was hindering us was the fact that we had to act human.

This involved not only avoiding overt displays of strength, but also acting as if the vanishing light was a problem. It also included needing to follow the directions of the authorities.

Well, it did until I "persuaded" them to leave us alone.

There were onlookers above that I did not have the time to focus on, so we divided up our forces. Esme, Rosalie, and Emmett assisted the search amongst the rubble for unknown victims (I assume they were holding their breath so that the scent of blood would not overwhelm them), while the rest of us continued our search for Cadie, upwind from the car with the little girl's bike. However, Esme and Nessie had to abandon these tasks in order to deal with Ian, when he arrived on the scene quite frantic. He wanted to talk to me, I think, but I was not in a fit state to do so. We also had to send Jacob away so that his presence would not interfere with Alice's sight.

During our search, we noticed that some of the debris looked as if it had been a part of a second mudslide right along where we lost her scent. We began to sift through it, very carefully. It was a momentous task, and I struggled with despair.

All I could think of during that ordeal was _Not her. Not now. Not yet. _

The longer the search went on, the more distraught I became. Cadie was young and had a good life ahead of her. She deserved to live it and pursue her dreams. She deserved to know how much she meant to me.

I wanted to see her eyes light up in laughter like they had during the Festival, and especially during the summer. I wanted to see the look of contentment that she had on many of the nights we sat out on the porch swing at her house. I wanted to hold her and steal her breath away.

I wanted her breathing.

* * *

I don't know how much time had passed, but I found myself jerking awake for the third time. I had been deeply asleep this time. I knew it. What had awoken me?

I felt it again. It had been a blast of cold air.

The rubble around me was either settling or …

I called out – "Hey! I'm trapped in here!"

At least, I meant it to, but my voice was so dry and weak that I'm not sure it ever managed to get to a decent shouting level of volume.

And then I heard the most beautiful sound, a human or maybe not-so-human shout of excitement.

Whether or not it was human, I never did figure out, because something shifted from above, and my world was reduced from darkness to absolute nothingness.

* * *

**AN: **Edgar Allan Poe rocks on the creepiness scale, by the way. Cask of Amontillado, Fall of the House of Usher, Raven - all so good!

So comments, questions, rapturous applauses, rotten tomatos...?


	35. Chapter 34 Just For This Moment

Chapter 34 – Just For This Moment

Gabby, Mark, and Ian all finally got hungry enough that my leaning on them to go and get food began to actually take effect. I was tired of pretending to be asleep on the small little bench.

When they left, I opened my eyes all the way and focused on the most precious thing to my world – her face. It was now restored to its natural pink color.

When Edward, Jasper, Bella, and Alice were finally able to lift everything out of the way, we found her breathing, but just barely. She had been pale almost to the point of blue from the cold, and she had blood seeping from her skull as a result of some chunk of concrete falling on her as we moved stuff around. Alice, Jasper, and I had to leave before we lost it.

And I don't mean our figurative cookies.

She stirred in her sleep a little, so I reached over and softly stroked her hair in order to calm her. This must have been enough to finally wake her up though. She slowly opened her eyes, blinking them owlishly before she focused on me, and then she smiled sleepily, saying, "Evan."

I whispered quietly back, "Cadie."

Her brow furrowed then as she took in her surroundings. She was in a hospital room and hooked up to all sorts of monitoring equipment. Stuff to monitor her heart rate. She thankfully was not hooked up to the oxygen anymore.

"What time is it? Or better yet, is it still Friday?"

I chuckled a little in sympathy, "It's about eleven o'clock in the morning, Saturday. Your mom and stepfather are here eating in the cafeteria with your father."

She groaned and fell back against the pillows, wincing in pain as she did so.

"Careful with that head of yours," I teased. "You suffered a concussion. If you need any pain meds, you can push that button right there," I gestured to the little remote by her right hand, "and the nurses will come. I made sure of it."

"I bet you did," she grumbled, but she said it with a smile so that I would know she appreciated the gesture. I never doubted that for a second, for she was never one not to enjoy the benefits of modern medicine when it was so conveniently at her disposal.

"How did you find me?" she asked after a moment.

So I told her the tale in all its agonizing detail, hoping to impress upon her the scare that she had given me with her lack of common sense. "…When we finally determined exactly where you were beneath all that rubble – which, by the way, was under a mountain of concrete slabs, rocks, gravel, mud, tree limbs, and various other bits of debris – we had to proceed with painstaking caution in order to not crush you by mistake. Alice was directing us as she calculated the consequences to each and every move.

"This also required my special skills – I hope you don't mind," I inserted a little caustically. I came to regret this little jibe, because after shaking her head in the negative she grimaced in pain, again, and bit her lip.

I continued my tale, knowing that as soon as it was finished, the sooner she would ask for more pain meds. "I had to focus everyone else's attention elsewhere so that we could do some indiscriminate displays of immortal strength. This was fairly easy as the emergency personnel had just removed enough rubble to access the front of that hatchback you saw and were able to take the Jaws of Life, or whatever it is called, to get the little girl and her mother out of the car."

"How are they?"

"Carlisle told me a few hours ago that the little girl was fine, only some scratches. She didn't suffer much from the cold. Her mother was still in critical condition, however."

"Oh," she breathed, returning to biting her lip as she worried about these complete strangers.

"There was nothing you could have done differently that would have helped their situation any," I reassured gently. "In fact, you could say that it was because you broke your promise that they are even alive."

She cheered up at that, asking hopefully, "So no lecture?"

"No lecture," I confirmed tweaking her hair. However, I was not going to let her get off that easily, so I continued, "But in the future, please, do as I ask, because not every time will you find a silver lining in the calamitous results that follow when you don't."

She looked as if she was debating what response to make, but eventually her face cleared and she calmly asserted, "You're right. More often than not, it's lead."

Her face changed to that of impish delight when I laughed quite heartily at her cheek.

Her family soon returned after that. I left to see when the doctors thought she could be released, and then to go help Bella dissuade Alice from throwing another Welcome Home party.

That was going to take all my wiles.

* * *

It had been a week since I was released from the hospital. Gabby and Mark had returned to Quebec on Monday, and I had returned to school. I think the yearbook staff had decided to add a category to the "Most Likely To…" section of the graduating year, and I was to be the sole candidate for "Most Likely to Set a World Record for Hospital Visits." Max had already proposed that I be on his future reality TV show about people who had the most random things happen to them, entitled "Why Me?"

If he only knew.

Today was the first day of December, and I had broken my vow of never volunteering to be exposed to the elements again, at least for the year. And why was I doing this? I was doing this because I needed to talk to Evan, and this was the perfect place. The Eyrie was where it all started.

The walk there started out normal. I was telling him all about the family dinner date of last night. It was the dinner, in which Ian finally introduced Sukey to me as his "lady friend" rather than business associate.

"So what did you think of her?" Evan asked, genuinely curious.

I shrugged, saying, "The same thing as I thought about her before. She's pretty, kind of classy, but at the same time pretty down to earth. She's funny. It wasn't really all that awkward like you would expect, especially since Ian was involved."

"What does she do again?"

"She's a furniture supplier for like local bed-and-breakfasts and inns. She is very pro-small business, so she only contracts from carpenters and such like my dad. She displays their work in her on-line catalog, and then local businessmen or women who want to support their peers or to have a unique décor buy from her. Her website is very well done, functional and aesthetically pleasing."

He laughed, "Is that how you do your homework on a potential stepmother? Check out her website?"

"Well, I need to know that she is my father's equal and that they have things in common," I sniffed. "Also, she has a section where you can read previous customer reviews. I checked with the help of Dani to see if that was legit, among other things."

He looked at me knowingly, "I bet that wasn't what really won you over though."

I reached for one of the "rungs" of my ladder, shaking my head no, "You're right. It wasn't. It was the fact that she hasn't done anything but be herself around me. No gifts. No pretty speeches. She showed interest in my life but didn't offer any unlooked for advice. I just get this vibe that she's alright."

He shook his head as he watched me climb up. I'm not sure what about that answer in confused him, but I'm sure if he objected to any of it he would have let me know. That's what had been amazing about our relationship – before, you know…I had my _crisis_. We had been frank, open, and honest with each other to the point of complete vulnerability. It was time that I stopped letting my fears get in the way of that. I needed to trust in him that he would not walk away from me even if he did not reciprocate my feelings, or want to act on said feelings.

I was with my back up against the tree trunk facing the mountain, using the bulk of the tree as a wind buffer, when he reached the top and settled next to me.

"So what is on your mind, Ms. Cadie Darby?" he queried with some lightheartedness but true sincerity.

"I …I don't know how to start really," I admitted softly.

He nudged me a little with his shoulder and then placed his right hand palm up into my left and placed my right over his, giving me the opportunity to trace his blue veins or lace my fingers with his, both of which I was want to do, and saying gently, "Just say it. It doesn't have to make sense. You can ramble for hours, and I'll listen and eventually I'm sure I'll figure it out."

I snorted, "Thanks. Most people would have recommended that I start at the beginning, you know."

He chuckled, "One, I'm not most people. And two, does this even have a beginning?"

I smiled a bit at the first, and sighed at the second, "Not really."

After a few moments of silence, I gathered up what little courage I had and plunged in. It was not the most elegant of dives, but whatever. "I know you think that I haven't noticed that accidents keep happening to me, and some of them are even potentially fatal, but I have."

Taking a deep breath, I blurted, "The last one scared me." I paused to see if he would make any comment here, but he remained silent and just looked at me intently, but patiently, so I continued, "I learned from it that life is too precious to waste. I've been scared for too long, and my fear has been holding me back."

Turning to him to look him squarely in the eye, I said, "I need to be completely honest with you. Our relationship has been based on openness and vulnerability, and I haven't done my part lately. I think that the reason I had for a while there been trying so hard is not only that I fear my time is running short but also because I'm trying to make up for that."

He stilled my hand that had been playing with his fingers all the while, interlaced them with mine, and squeezed lightly, stating encouragingly, "I won't leave. Go ahead."

"I'm also sorry for the way that I have treated you lately. I have pushed you away and have been, well, a _bitch_. My only excuse is that I've been scared, scared of so many things that I have been… incapacitated. But no more."

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and then opened them, looking into his warm caring golden ones and bared my soul.

* * *

Cadie seemed restless today. She called me out of the blue to go to the Eyrie with her. I knew it was a place that held significance for her, and thus, I knew this wasn't just an ordinary "let's hang out" type of call.

In order to distract her from the future heavy topic we were going to discuss, I asked her on the way about her father's "lady friend;" (he apparently believed the term girlfriend should be limited to the teenage and possibly young adult vernacular).

I almost wanted to challenge her about her comment of "getting a good vibe." One day she was going to have a false reading, and she was going to get hurt, which was entirely possible since I knew she has such a vibe about me. But I suspected that should be a topic of conversation for another day.

She strategically sat down so that she was sheltered from the wind. I regretted once more that I was what I was – or else I could have offered her extra warmth just like any other guy. However, since I couldn't do that, I could at least help her hurry this chat along so that she could relocate sooner. It didn't seem as if she was able to start the ball rolling.

Once she got going though, I did as I predicted: I got lost in her rhythm. The way she moved and spoke and expressed herself was like a dance, not a gyrating one, but one of elegance, whimsy, longing, and fire.

I could see that she was struggling. I knew that she was afraid, afraid of me and what I might do. She needn't be so scared, because there was nothing she could say that would make me leave her.

_"I love you."_

Except for maybe that.

As much as I regretted being what I am, there are some perks that I'm deeply grateful for, like ultra fast neuro-processing. I didn't know what to say or do in response. I knew what I _wanted_ to say, and I knew what I _should_ say. Choosing between the two was going to take some time, and I was rapidly running out of it.

I could deny what I felt for her. I could continue to play the "let's just be friends" card. We would still have each other in our lives, but she would be at a safe distance from me. She could go on with her life and be happy and normal.

This would change our post-high school plans, for to have part but not all would be misery, like daily squeezed lemon juice on a paper cut that never heals. I knew that I couldn't do that to her. I would have to let her continue her friendship with Nessie but back off on ours.

Even as I thought about these options, I knew they were pointless. I was not a noble creature. Moreover, Cadie had played the winning hand – the request for honesty, and to do anything less, to give her an answer that was not equally forthcoming would be an insult to her and her courage. Plus, it was impossible to deny her anything when her big green eyes were imploring me so, as if my answer determined the continuance of her very existence.

So I decided to throw in the towel and leap into the unknown with her.

* * *

I waited expectantly as he processed the three little words that I had uttered, and just when I thought that I might go blue in the face for not breathing or punch a hole through my lower lip in my anxiety, he leaned forward touching his forehead to mine exhaling softly, "_A chuisle_."

I shifted away from the tree trunk and put my weight on to my knees so that I was facing him squarely and pressed back, challenging him, "What does that mean exactly, Laddie Boy?"

He half-chuckled, half-groaned, "It means that if my stone cold heart could beat, then it would beat your cadence."

_Sappy. Cute but sappy. _Not satisfied, I grabbed his face and looked straight into his warm golden eyes and begged for clarification, "Please…"

Mimicking me, he gently placed his hands on either side of my face, and smiling all the while, said slowly in that velvety voice of his, "I …love…you…Cadie Rowan Darby."

* * *

Her smile as I said those three little words were as to me as if the archangel Gabriel had just blown the final triumphant trumpet call. I may go to hell for not doing the right thing (not that I didn't deserve to anyways), but it was beyond worth it.

She shifted back into her original position. The one in which she had our fingers interlaced and she ran her other hand lightly over my veins, gazing at the mountain that loomed not so far away. I let her bask in this moment, enjoying myself a little as well, before plummeting us back into the nitty-gritty, "So what now?"

She sighed and admitted softly, "I don't know. I hadn't let myself think beyond my confession. It was too depressing."

Trying to play innocent, I asked incredulously, "What you didn't actually - ?"

She snorted mid-question, "You almost didn't. Admit it. Don't think I don't know you that well."

Not denying it, I turned us back to my original question, "Then you know what I'm really asking."

She sighed and replied beseechingly, "I don't know. Can't we just take it one day at a time?"

Relieved, I took my hand from hers and put my arm around her. Kissing the top of her head, I whispered, "As you wish."

* * *

After Evan so graciously vowed to follow my lead, we sat in silence. This was ended by me when I asked him for a Gaelic lesson, in which he also graciously obliged. I learned "I love you," various terms of endearment, as well as the words for toilet, food, water, and hotel, before my shivering could no longer be ignored (that, and before I could ask him for a whole list of new expletives to add to my collection).

Despite the fact that I was cold, I insisted that we go the normal human pace. I wanted to enjoy this moment together. It had been too long since we were like this. Too long since I had felt totally and completely free and yet in tune with all the world. When we got to my car though, I wasn't sure what should happen next. I knew he couldn't come with me to the house, because it would look strange as he had no vehicle to explain how he got there. At the same time, I wanted him to, very much.

My internal quandary was interrupted, when he invaded my space so suddenly that my back was pressed against the Hearse's driver-side door. He put one hand near the side of my head and with the other he stopped my nervous nibbling of my lip by placing his cold index finger on it. Leaning down, he whispered roughly, "You've got to stop doing that."

My brain felt as if the mental wheels were turning in a vat of gelatin. He was so close our breath was intermingling. I wasn't sure what he was talking about because his intoxicating scent was probably the interfering giant jello tub. I was eventually able to use my cause-and-effect reasoning skills to connect the dots, and then I cleverly choked out, "Wh - why?"

He smiled like the predator he was as he closed the distance and kissed me. It was slow and soft and feather light, making me feel cherished, and it was blessedly not short. It could have gone on longer in my opinion; in fact, I attempted to make it so by holding onto his jacket lapels, but my meager strength was, of course, no match for his as he gently pulled away.

He smiled roguishly as he stepped back, rubbing his hands through his curls. Although his smugness was adorable, it ticked me off a little, so I said with some consternation, "Self-satisfied, are we? Well, I hope you realize that you just gave me a reason to continue such a bad habit."

"That good of a kisser, am I?" was his cocky reply.

Not being able to deny it, I said nothing, but watched him as he slowly stalked forward. His demeanor had changed. Instead of pride, there was…there was…adoration. This realization brought tears to my eyes, so as a natural response I bit my lip to keep them from spilling over.

He put his hand to my face and said teasingly as he tilted my chin up, "You're doing it again."

I almost explained why in haste to defend myself, but then I realized that it would make me sound like … like a sap, so I didn't. I must have opened my mouth though, because the next thing I knew he was closing it and rubbing my lips with his thumb. It sounds weird, but it made me shiver in the most pleasant of ways. His entire attention was focused on them, so much so that I found it difficult to concentrate on what he said next.

"You know, I have a second reason that maybe more convincing than the last," was his quiet murmur.

I lifted my eyebrows in an expression of "Oh really?" once I processed what he said.

"Mhmm…It would be _healthier_ for you, if you avoided habits like these that could potentially draw blood in my presence…"

He said this significantly enough that the dawning light of comprehension came a lot faster than previous bits of our conversation. Once he had felt secure that I had caught the drift, he leaned down and kissed my cheek in the near vicinity of the corner of my mouth. I made a mental note that if he ever looked as if he might do that again I was to turn my head as rapidly as possible so that he would miss his mark for one that I would prefer. I felt like a junkie plotting for her next score. It was ridiculous, but that was how our first kiss made me feel, it was that incredible.

When I was finally able to convince him that I was okay to drive, I got in and started the Hearse up. I didn't leave, however, without ensuring that he would be at my house tomorrow so that he could assist me on my project. I'm not sure how I was going to get any productive work done, but it definitely wasn't going to hurt to try.

* * *

**AN: **Aww...sigh... ; )

Gaelic to English translation of _a chuisle = _my pulse

Chapter Title is a line from "As Long as Your Mine" from the musical Wicked, which I thought was really apropos for Cadie and Evan.

Anywho, thoughts?


	36. Chapter 35 Photograph

Chapter 35 – Photograph

My day started a lot earlier than I had planned. If I had known that I was going to have a surprise visitor, I would have taken a sleeping pill the night before so I could shut off my brain and go to sleep. Instead, I stayed up late replaying the afternoon over and over again in my mind and sketched every facial expression that Evan had made that I could recall during our little tête-à-tête.

I was woken up by the effervescent being of perfection, whom I would have killed quite happily in that moment if I had been capable of it, when she barged into my room, bounced on my bed, and loudly encouraged me to "Wake up!"

"Eh…"

"Wake up, Cadence Rowan! You have to tell me everything!" she ordered, amidst all her bouncing and shaking and annoying prodding. She also pouted, "Evan won't give me the juicy details…even though he came home whistling so cheerily that Emmett thought he had 'done the dirty.'" She giggled a little and sighed in exasperation all at the same time at that last bit.

"Ugh…later…" I groaned out, trying to bury my head beneath my pillows.

Getting off the bed, she stated threateningly, "If you don't get up now, I'll just snoop through your sketchbooks…I know you have sketches somewhere…"

I wish that I had something like my steel toe boots to express nonverbally my displeasure. Unfortunately, I did not, so I rolled over and rasped out groggily, "Alright, alright, if you get me some coffee, I'll do as you decree."

"Deal! But only on the conditions that you sit up and open your eyes before I leave so that you don't fall asleep," she chirped.

I complied with her requests and even plastered a grimace of a smile on my face as a bonus.

She gave a satisfied nod, commenting, "That'll do. I'll be back."

While she was doing that, I decided to get presentable – as in putting my hair up, washing my face, and brushing my teeth. She was perched on my vanity's chair, delicately holding my favorite coffee cup: a blooming blue rose ceramic mug that Billy had made me. It wasn't perfect, but it was one of his best. The other was a jack o' lantern with the most hideous of faces. I had used it yesterday, or else I suspect Nessie would have picked that one instead to mock me.

After I plopped down on the bed and had a chance to savor my first few sips, she grinned, saying insistently, "So spill."

So I did, starting off slowly, but quickly gathering speed as I had a very attentive audience. When I was done, her eyes were a light and she declared triumphantly, "Oh, I knew it! I'll have you know that I predicted to Jake, when Evan was acting all moody, and then _especially_ when he told us he had met with you and you two decided to 'be friends' that he was in love with you!"

I quirked an eyebrow, asking with some disbelief, "Really?"

She nodded vigorously, "Yes, really! Esme even agrees with me."

"You've talked about this with Esme?" This question was intoned with far more incredulity, and far less amusement.

"Mhmm, and with Jake and occasionally Emmett and Alice, but everyone else seems to think like you do that I need to mind my own business. Jacob sometimes agrees with them, when I do it too much," she informed me a little disgruntled, but she soon perked up and asked me, "So he really kissed you on the excuse that he had to stop you from biting your lip?"

Realizing that this was probably the only time she got to share in girl talk like this, I humored her, answering, "No, not exactly…" and my correction was soon followed in going over every minutiae of yesterday, nearly analyzing it to death. We only paused when I required a refill.

We only stopped when Evan showed up. Nessie saw him first and quickly made her excuses and danced out of the room, but not before winking at me impudently.

Evan took her place and sat on the chair, somehow looking very masculine while juxtaposed to the very feminine furniture. His eyes were twinkling with mischief even as he asked concernedly, "She didn't give you too much trouble, I hope?"

I shrugged in dismissal as I rose to direct him to follow me down and out to the Studio, saying only, "Nothing that I couldn't handle with two cups of Ian's java."

He laughed at that and gave me a brief hug before he made a general pest of himself for the rest of the afternoon.

* * *

I endured the ribbing I received when I injudiciously expressed my happiness when I came home that first night. Emmett and Nessie were the worst, as in the most vocal. Jacob eventually took pity on me and clamped a hand over her mouth before he dragged her outside to finish carving their ice sculpture.

The next morning I had to fight the temptation to go to Cadie's house early and climb up the tree outside her bedroom window in order to listen in on their conversation. I distracted myself with helping Esme in creating her own intricate ice sculpture. Apparently, there was now a competition among the family to see who could do the most complicated and beautiful tableau. Who is judging, I'm not sure.

That afternoon I went from one artistic endeavor to another. This time, however, I was a clueless participant. Once we arrived in the studio, she pulled out an easel that had large covered canvas resting on it. She set it up so that I would have to stand in the corner behind her in order to get a decent view of her work.

"My assistance" was limited to answering her peculiar questions concerning various members of my family and their relationship to shades of color that she would reluctantly show me an example of an her pallet. I would answer as best I could and then reach out and mix my own combination, dabbing it on her nose. I could never decide which was cuter, her funny little crinkling of the offended member or her huffing and puffing in irritation as she glared at me for offering her kisses in exchange for a sneak peak at her endeavor.

Needless to say, the only thing different about our relationship since the day before that one was that we were far more affectionate, or at least willing to express our desire to be affectionate.

The other changes came on Monday morning. I met her at her car and offered to carry her bag. As opposed to previous chivalrous offers of assistance, she accepted this one. I walked her to class teasing her about how long it took to get the paint smudges off her cheek, which prompted her to pull a face that although it was adorable, was not very attractive. We didn't hold hands nor did I put my hand proprietarily to her back as we maneuvered through the throng of students, but there was an energy about us that was noticeable to the student body enough that we received a few curious stares.

This soon became more than a few by lunch, when I elected to sit with her and her group of friends rather than my family. Regan was the boldest of the group, as she bluntly asked me, "So what gives?" (Subtext: Why are you sitting with the little people?)

Even Cadie was taken by surprise at this new development, anxiously asking, "Did you and Jasper have another 'fight?'"

Choosing to up the ante a little, I nonchalantly put my arm on the back of her chair, and with my most charming smile, I answered breezily, "No, there was no fight. I just happen to see them all the time, but you kick me out by nine o'clock every night that I'm over," hinting at our parting "debate" the night before.

She grumbled under her breath, "…Ian …my _father_, happens … be there," a statement, which was loud enough for her friends to hear and raise their eyebrows over, much to my amusement. Their reactions, though astonished at first, quickly resembled that of pleased mamas (or in Toombs' case, of a proud papa).

It was a new and different experience, sitting with her friends. Maggie always reminded me of how I would picture Nessie to be if she was without her vampiric qualities. Jacob, himself, has in the past commented that she would have inherited her mother's tendency to trip over flat surfaces just because her mind's energy and momentum would not translate adequately into the capabilities of her body.

It was also an easier experience than expected to overcome the natural aversion that humans have towards our kind. When I noted this to Edward later that day, he smirked and informed me that it was "a natural consequence of being in love; it makes you lose your edge." Not wanting to admit yet that I have gone soft, I will just say that the congenial fellowship experienced was due to the fact that we all shared a love of music, which was a topic that dominated our conversations that week.

My favorite part of those first lunches together, however, had to have been all the opportunities I got to lean down and whisper in her ear, tug gently on her hair, or draw soothing patterns on back of her neck with my finger "absentmindedly," all of which would make her blush. She eventually became comfortable with this more familiar, for the lack of a better word, behavior, and she even began to reciprocate some by doing things like holding my hand and leaning back against me while standing in the lunch line. It was also a good thing that neither Emmett nor Jacob was there to see the cutesy little smiles we gave each other, or else we would have had to witness their exaggerated gagging pantomimes.

Our behavior soon became the talk of the school, if not the town, and poor Cadie had to suffer the bulk of it as she was the more approachable of us. The Emilee girl was the quickest to pounce on her of her old clique, badgering her for as much detail as possible but I imagine not for the same reasons that Nessie had. Max also did not appear as genuinely happy for us as her other friends. He pulled her aside after Government to express his concerns and most likely using the rumors about me as the basis of his argument to judge by the foul mood she was in when I saw her afterwards. What Zach and her other garage mates thought of this new development, I don't know as their attitude towards me never changed.

Ian's did though. I had to endure a long lecture about being responsible and being gentleman when it came to dating his daughter, etc. on Friday night, while she was on the phone with her mother, which was too bad because it would have been fun to see her squirm in embarrassment. She did, however, have to sit through the laying down of the new ground rules, which included things like leaving the door open to her bedroom if both of us were occupying it. She found that one laughable as we spent most of our time in the Studio/shed, which in order to heat adequately needed the door shut; she did not point out this inconsistency, however, and nor did I, selfish creature that I am.

It was the following morning when I went out to my truck to join her and her friends on a last fair weather hike that my euphoria was deflated drastically. There was an envelope tucked under my windshield wiper.

Inside there was a photograph.

It was a picture of me leaning down just before I kissed Cadie.

On the back, in blood, there was just one word – _**Tasty**_.

* * *

**AN:** Recommendation: To get the total affect of the cliffie, mentally play the _Jaws_ theme song ; )


	37. Chapter 36 The Unveiling

Chapter 36 – The Unveiling 

I was never so grateful for a snowstorm than I had been for the one just before Christmas. Not only did it postpone exams, but it also cut short mine and Evan's new status as the most talked of couple. I'm hoping by next year someone else will hold that title. Maybe Max and Emilee will get back together. (They had a classic summer romance before something petty split them up in September.) They are talking again, amiably too.

Monday morning was just like the first day of school all over again. I had no idea what to wear or what the day would hold for me. Needing a confidence boost, I chose my favorite sweater, a sage green one that went really well with a scarf Gabby had gotten me as a goodbye gift before I came out here. It turned out that this was a really good choice because one of the first things Evan said to me when he saw me without my jacket on was that it was his favorite too. His eyes warmed as they roved over me, indicating that it wasn't just because it brought out my eyes.

That first week was irritating because he got to be all calm, cool, and confident. No one dared approach him to comment on our relationship. I had to deal with it all; thus, I was more hesitant about displaying it. Everyone's reactions were a bit predictable; much like after the Hearse got its new paint job. Emilee pumped me for information as soon as possible. I felt like one of the "poor" celebrities who have mikes and cameras shoved in their faces after something big happens in their personal lives. Genevieve showed a little curiosity, but this was tempered by Tiffany's attitude of disgust.

Max was the worst though, as he pulled me aside and conveyed his "concerns." One of them was ironically valid, however. His exact words were "He looks at you like – like a man dying of thirst does a glass of lemonade. It's not right. Those kind of guys are dangerously possessive, Cadie…" It was then that his diatribe no longer applied, and I eventually cut him with a curt thank you before joining my future "jailer."

My geek squad was the best. At lunch, they never said anything, other than Regan questioning his relocation. They were interested, but they also respected my obvious wish to keep it on the down low. Maggie and Dani eventually cracked and asked me about it in private, but then only quiet expressed their congratulations after I confirmed the rumors. I thought Jeff might be a little hurt by it, but apparently he has moved on to someone with journalistic inclinations. I hope to find out that she returns them, but with Regan Parker it is always difficult to know what really goes on inside her head or heart.

Ian was a little taken aback that I was even dating. On Friday night, Evan had planned to take to me to the nearest coffee shop that had a decent reputation and to his favorite secondhand bookstore, (both of which I enjoyed immensely). When I casually told Ian a few days ahead of time that Evan was taking me out on a date Friday night, he spewed his drink all over his plate in surprise. For once, the grapevine had not kept him in the loop.

_"You, you and the Keegan boy are dating? What happened to being just friends?" he spluttered as he hastily tried to clean himself up with a wad of napkins._

_"Yes, _**Evan** _and I are dating. And we decided to be more than friends, which sounds vaguely familiar…" was my very respectful and dutifully patient reply._

_He stopped what he was doing to give me a stern look, saying "Don't get catty with me, Cadie, as your father and someone who, as you just pointed out, has had a similar experience that did not turn out very well, I have the right to express my concerns." _

_His gaze softened then and he sighed, "It's just that I thought your mother had instilled into you the waiting-until-you-have-experienced-life-before-dating thing. There are plenty of boys out there. Don't tie yourself down too soon, Cadence."_

_"Goodness gracious, Dad, I can still date and experience life. It's not like I'm planning on marrying him right out of high school, you know. I don't even know if it's all that serious. We haven't even gone out yet."_

_He eyed me in disbelief, scoffing, "Come on, Cadie. It's you we're talking about. You don't do casual."_

I had nothing to say to that as he was right.

Zach seemed ambivalent when Old Tink brought it up. His booming voice informed everyone in the garage of my "relationship upgrade," as he got all paternal on me, cautioning me about young boys, etc. (Lucky for me, Evan had already left). Morgan and Louie were not there either so I could not gauge by their reactions as to what he thought. I was going to talk about it with Zach this past week when Evan and I went hiking with him, Morgan, and Louie, but Evan called at the last minute and requested that I not go because of some vision Alice had. It was a good thing that it was with Zach, and not Max, that I had to ask for a rain check, or else I would have had to endure another lecture on overly possessive and manipulative boyfriends.

Instead of hiking with Zach and his crew, I got to judge an ice sculpture competition and a watch snowball war. The former is what led to the latter, as Evan took umbrage against the fact that I liked Nessie's best and proceeded to "punish" me by wrestling me into the snow. Nessie and Emmett came to my "rescue" by ambushing him with some well-aimed shots, which resulted in retaliation and all-out war. I was excluded as the speed with which they were throwing the snowballs would have left more than welts on my skin. I didn't mind, however, as it was far more amusing to watch and drink hot tea than become a soggy popsicle.

Christmas holidays were much better than the last. Dani threw a party once the roads were clear, and that was fun. Her parents run the local lodge, so we all came over and played a massive game of sardines, BS, and Would You Rather?; the latter two was while we warmed ourselves with hot cocoa, coffee, or tea.

On Christmas Eve, Ian and I ate dinner and exchanged gifts with Old Tink and Zach before joining them for Mass, and on Christmas morning Ian and I did our own gift exchange before we went our separate ways; he to join Sukey, and me the Cullens, but only after I called Gabby.

One might think it was weird that Ian had elected to spend most of this family-oriented holiday with his new girlfriend rather than his daughter whom he has rarely seen outside of summer visits throughout her childhood, but Sukey needed him more than I did.

_"So why again are you going to her family's holiday dinner, so soon? Aren't you rushing it a little?" I asked, a bit concerned._

_"Her younger sister is going to be there five months pregnant with her third kid. She needs some emotional support," he explained._

_"So she's using you as a successful relationship trophy to her family," I translated._

_He shrugged, "I guess, a little."_

_Instead of trying to fathom the reason for why he was not bothered by that, I questioned nervously, "Does she want to have kids too? Because aren't you guys like, a bit old for that?"_

_He chuckled a little, "Now who's rushing it? Besides, I take offense to that. I'm not old. I'm thirty-seven, and she's thirty-two. Everything still works, or so I'm told." _

_He smirked at my expression and ruffled my hair before returning to making our dinner, for I then sincerely regretted bringing the subject up. To recover from the mental images that were scarring me for life, I began to think about the necessary ingredient combination for a perfect caramel machiatto and calculating the distance to the nearest place that might serve such a beverage. It was quite far from my present location, which is exactly where I wanted to be. _

When I arrived at the Cullens' house, I was a little surprised that they did not go all out with decorations, considering Alice's love for any excuse to party and be festive, but I guess after so many of these holidays they lose their novelty. Both Esme and Nessie felt the need to apologize for this, but I reassured them, saying, "Don't worry about it. This just means that I don't have the problem of wondering how I am going to make room for my second or third big meal in the last twenty-four hours."

There wasn't a tree, but Christmas stockings were hanging on the mantel. Mine was a blue and white quilted pattern one with silver spangles spelling out my name, and Evan's, I noticed, reflected his room's colors of black, green, silver, and white. The gifts inside were not the typical stocking gifts like gum and crossword puzzles, except for the chocolate from Jacob. Nessie had also given me a small bag of very expensive brand of espresso beans, and Esme had written me a letter.

There was also a gorgeously wrapped box that could only have been a jewelry box.

Nessie was practically dancing a jig in her excitement, chanting, "Open it! Open it!"

It was disconcerting knowing that everyone was watching me, ranging from blatant intensity to careful nonchalance. I eventually was able to get my fumbling fingers to cooperate to do as she bid, without cutting myself, and it tumbled into my lap. I hesitantly opened it, knowing that whatever it was would be spectacular.

It was.

"Oh my, you shouldn't have!" I exclaimed, holding it up. It was a silver charm bracelet, with about a dozen charms already attached.

"My letter explains a little of why I chose that charm," Esme softly inputted.

I looked at her quizzically, a little puzzled by what she meant, but Bella filled in instead, "Each of us chose something to represent us that would remind you of us. Edward and I chose the book, since we share a love of reading with you."

I nodded beginning to understand. I looked for the charm she described, and sure enough, there was a book; however, on each of the covers there was an etched chess piece. One was a king, and the other was a queen. Wondering if the other charms were in such detail, I examined it closer.

"Guess which ones are the rest of ours!" Nessie commanded.

I smiled and asked, "Do I get any hints?" Some of them were obvious, but others not so much.

She looked thoughtful about that for a little bit, and then turning off looked at Evan, "How many?"

He chuckled, but then looked at me with one eyebrow quirked, challenging, "Three."

Playing along, I got the easier ones out of the way first and pointed, saying "The wolf with a wrench in his mouth is Jacob's, the shamrock is Evan's, and the dice with roses etched on them are Emmett's and Rosalie's." I knew the last to be true because aside from the rose connection, Emmett was always trying to sucker me or members of his family into taking him up on a bet. The only other one I was able to know for sure was Alice and Jasper's. It was one of those charms that are like a miniature playing card, but this one had a Jack of Hearts on one side and on the other was a picture of Tinkerbelle. I had confessed to Alice my whimsy that I had had about her the first time I saw her of being "Tiny Tink."

I pointed to it, and said confusedly, "That's Alice and Jasper's, but that leaves six and only Carlisle, Esme, and Nessie are left."

I was looking around gauging their reactions to see if I had guessed right. It was rather difficult as most of them could appear to be Greek statues if they so chose, but Rosalie tried to psych me out I think by giving a bored sniff as if she couldn't believe how I had missed the obvious. She failed to do so, however, as Jacob gave me an encouraging wink and sly nod to show that I was on the right track.

Deciding that a hint was in order, I looked to Evan, and he whispered, "Hint number one: Carlisle and Esme share one."

Nessie followed this with, "Hint number two: Evan has more than one. Do you want a third one yet?"

Instead of answering directly, I chose what my last hint would reveal, "Do all of the animal ones happen to be Evan's?"

Evan gave a slow nod, smirking. Probably, sure of the fact that I had no idea as to why he had chosen those.

Winging it, I finally declared, "The house is Carlisle and Esme's. The crown is Nessie's, and so is the fiddle."

"Oh man! She got more than I expected," Emmett exclaimed.

Jasper smiled in satisfaction, "Which is why I didn't take on your wager."

"Learned your lesson, did you?" Evan commented wryly.

"Obviously, Emmett didn't, because he owes me concert tickets," Edward gloated.

Not sure whether to be offended or amused by this exchange, I began asking, "What bet? What lesson? Which concert?" causing nearly everyone to smirk or chuckle at my expense.

Carlisle patiently ignored them, but still shaking his head in amusement, he reported, "Emmett thought that you'd get at least three of them wrong, and Edward wagered that it would be no more than two. Jasper learned that it was healthier for his pocketbook not to try and predict what you would or can do because not even Alice can do that, and Edward has been wanting to go see some European rock group that is on tour this side of the Pond," and he rattled off some group that was a bit heavy in style. I was kind of surprised that Edward would like them; but then again, he knows good music, and they certainly qualify.

"But don't you want to know which one you got wrong?" he queried after a moment..

I nodded, completely bamboozled as to where I had erred.

He pointed to the crown, explaining, "That one is also of Evan's choosing."

Looking at Evan, I raised my eyebrows slightly amused, "A tiara?"

After Emmett's loud guffaws subsided, he defended himself, "A crown, and I'll explain later."

I grinned, "I certainly hope so," and then looking at this wonderful family who had accepted me into their midst, I questioned curiously, "Who's idea was it and where did you get it done?"

Nessie chimed in then, "Oh, it was Evan's idea, of course. He came to Esme and me with the idea months ago. You know, when you were talking to Zach Daniels and his father about jewelry. As to the jeweler, Carlisle knows a guy in some famous shop in New York. He's always doing business with him for Esme."

My mouth dropped open in shock, and I turned to Evan, mouthing "Tiffany's?"

He nodded, a little wary of my reaction, and justifiably so, because I was trying not to freak out at the idea that they had gotten me a _Tiffany's_ bracelet, while I had merely painted them a picture.

Reasoning, well, reassuring myself with a lie that because Carlisle was such a frequent customer, they must have gotten a good deal, I was able to manage to warmly express my gratitude without my voice cracking in anxiety.

Speaking for the whole family, Esme leaned over and patted my knee, "It was our pleasure."

"Well, are you going to put it on?" Nessie asked urgently.

Nodding, I turned to Evan, gesturing for him to do the honors. He did so, placing a kiss at my pulse point on my wrist, whispering, "Merry Christmas, _a chuisle_."

Trying not to blush in embarrassment at how quickly my heart sped up for everyone to hear, I distracted myself by exclaiming, "Now, it's my turn! Evan, can you bring out my gift to the family? I want Esme and Carlisle to open it."

He readily agreed, eager to see the finished work of the project that he had assisted me on. This was another reason to be grateful for the snowstorm: it gave me an opportunity to work undistracted, which allowed me to finish it on time. Otherwise, it would have been a New Year's gift.

I had wrapped it in protective cloth, but instead of tying it with the usual twine, I had used holiday colored gift ribbons of blue, silver, green, gold, and red. Esme and Carlisle carefully undid each one and then removed the cloth. Upon seeing it, Esme let out a little gasp, and Carlisle's eyes grew wide. Their expressions alone were worth it. Carlisle, slowly turned it around so the rest of the family could see it.

It was a painting done in various shades of white of their driveway fountain. However, it wasn't quite like their fountain. Instead of dryads and water nymphs, I had painted each of them; and instead of the water nymph spouting from the center, Esme and Carlisle were side-by-side holding hands and from their outstretched arms, water poured forth as if they were raining down their love on their family.

Below them on the second tier and to the left were Emmett and Rosalie. She was sitting in his lap, while he precariously hung over the edge. On the same level as them were Bella and Edward. She had her arms wrapped around him from behind and was looking over his shoulder as they both gazed lovingly on Nessie, who was sitting on a rock below them on the bottom tier, splashing playfully at Jacob, who was returning fire.

On the other side of the fountain on the bottom tier, there was Jasper and Alice. He was sitting so that she could lay her head on his shoulder comfortably. Her arm was trailing into the water that was in the basin below, contentedly. Evan was in the middle, leaning back impishly grinning as his feet dangled in the water below, blithely kicking away, happy as a clam.

I should rephrase this description a little. I'm not nearly good enough to capture their perfection, so I didn't even try to. I did this family portrait impressionistic style. The way one could tell who was who, besides from general features like Alice's pixie hairstyle, was by their body language and shade of white. For example, I tried to convey Emmett's and Rosalie's personalities by their daring positions, and Rosalie's reddish-white dress hinted at her boldness and flare. Bella had a blue-white dress as that was Edward's favorite color on her, and Jacob's shirt had a russet brown tint that Evan claimed was what his wolf's coat looked like, and so on.

Bella was the first to say anything, whispering in awe, "How did you do that? I mean, get the colors to look like, well _that_?"

I shrugged, "Evan gave me a little help. I had him as a guinea pig."

He laughed, saying, "Yeah, for weeks most of our conversations consisted of 'Does this look right? How about this? Does this remind you of …?'"

Jacob cut in then, "Why did you decide to do it in white though? Why not just paint it in normal colors?"

I shrugged again, "Multiple reasons, really. I wanted it to match Esme's décor. Nessie told me once how your kind's vision," I gestured to the Cullens, "allows you to distinguish and appreciate the various hues, and I wanted to experiment a little. So did it turn out well?"

Evan leaned down and lightly kissed my forehead, proudly saying, "More than well," and everyone's nod and soft, or not so soft, agreements seconded that assessment.

We split off not long after that, each pursuing his/her own form of entertainment. I followed Evan up to his room. Once settled on his bean bag couch, I opened Esme's letter and read it. I should have made sure to have a box of tissues with me, for that lady is overwhelmingly sweet and kind.

Trying to restore my equilibrium, Evan stated thoughtfully, "You know, if you don't stop soon, your eyes will turn all red and puffy. I can't have that, so let me see the letter so I'll know what to chastise Esme for…"

Hastily moving the letter out of his less than half-hearted reach, I exclaimed, "You'll do no such thing! She was just being her normal kind self, telling me that I was always welcome in her home. That was what her and Carlisle's charm meant, you know, with the open door to the little house …" I then drifted off, pausing to eye him mischievously, "So, are you going to explain what the _tiara_ meant?"

He rolled his eyes and corrected painstakingly, "It's a _crown_. And yes, minx, I will explain them all."

He fingered the shamrock, saying, "This one is for when you call me Irish Laddie."

"I figured."

He gave me a reproving glance for my interruption, but still continued, "The shield is a representation of my 'overbearing' protection, and the crown is for when I'm my 'roguishly charming self.' A wee bit of a stretch, I know, from Prince Charming to that, but work with me a little."

I nodded agreement, while dramatically exclaiming, "What a relief!"

He nudged me playfully, but still proceeded in his explanation, smirking in satisfaction, "The donkey is for when I'm being an 'unmitigated ass.'"

I smiled and commended him, "Quite clever," for quoting one of my favorite lines from the latest film version of _Pride and Prejudice_ that I had made him sit through when I was sick.

More seriously, he stated, "The hawk is for our Eyrie conversations, which I cherish greatly."

I was a little choked up about that, but managed, "Me too. And the lion?"

He smiled impishly again, "You called me your 'black lion' once in your sleep."

"Did not!" I denied. I supported this claim by arguing, "I never talk in my sleep!"

"You do at least when you are sick," he taunted, with a smidgeon of sympathy.

"Oh dear," I mumbled, embarrassed.

"Do I get to hear your story on that?"

So I told him, and at the end he chuckled, saying, "That's a pretty tall order, filling Aslan's shoes, but I would be honored."

Then he kissed me.

It started off slow and light with a mixture of tenderness and teasing, but then it changed. Romance novels frequently compare kisses such as these as a slow burn that flares into raging inferno of heat and passion. But for me, all I could think of – well, besides his cool, hard, and very insistent lips – was a river. I was caught in a current of emotion that pulled me down and down and around until I had no way of knowing which way was up, and I particularly didn't want to. His fingers were entangled in my hair, and mine in his. And that's all that I could tell you of where we began and ended; we were so tightly fused together.

I eventually became too passionate, reaching his threshold for vampiric self-control, and he had to pull away. He didn't scold me, however. He merely sheepishly breathed, "Merry Christmas," before grabbing my hand so we could rejoin the family.

That was a good day.

* * *

**AN: **Christmas in May fluff, I know, but... no, nevermind. You'll have to wait and see ; )

Next Chapter - Yin Yang and Doubts


	38. Chapter 37 Yin Yang and Doubts

Chapter 37 – Yin Yang and Doubts

On Boxing Day another snowstorm hit that lasted five days. The power went out, and Ian had to use the backup generators for the last two. Power was eventually restored on New Year's Eve, but the roads were not yet cleared so my plans for that night were cancelled. Instead of going to the town's fireworks show and mingling amongst my various groups of friends, I had dinner with Ian and several hours' worth of card games like Rummy, Crazy Eights, and Egyptian Rat Screw until the countdown.

The nice thing about having a vampire for a boyfriend is that little things like bad weather and poor road conditions are never an issue. When I went up to bed after Ian and I toasted in the New Year, I found Evan waiting for me.

I threw myself into his arms and stayed there for quite some time. We spent the rest of the night talking about New Year's-y stuff. I finally fell asleep a little after dawn, not that one could tell the difference for the clouds. I slept in until ten, and then we talked some more, among other things, until one. An unlooked for, but wonderful side benefit of an extended snowstorm was that Ian was sick of me as I was of him to the point that he didn't mind that I remained secluded in my room so late or that once the roads were cleared I spent most of my time with Evan and his family.

Such a blissful streak of happiness always seems to need to come to an end or to be counterbalanced, depending on how one looks at it. The first sign of trouble was when my sketchbook disappeared again.

"Evan, did Nessie happen to commandeer my sketchbook again?" I queried as we walked to English.

He frowned and replied, "No, not that I know of. When did you notice that it was missing?"

"Um, yesterday, when I was going to study for my calculus exam, I noticed that it wasn't where I remembered leaving it last."

"Huh, well, I'll ask her."

"Thanks," I stated as I shrugged out of my coat.

I didn't hear from him on the subject again, and I didn't see Nessie until a few days later. When I did see her at the garage, Evan was standing behind her and neither looked too happy.

Nessie greeted me with what sounded like a rehearsed speech, "Cadie, I'm sorry for being a – nosy little brat and – taking your sketchbook – again, without your permission." Every time she paused Evan prodded her from behind urging her on.

"And I'm sorry that I was so careless with it that I – Well, you see… " She handed me my missing property. Or what had once been my property. It was badly burnt with only a few sketches untouched, mainly, the one of the Tink shop crew and the two of my dad. All of my favorite sketches of Evan and the Cullens were rendered unrecognizable.

"How – how did this happen?" I choked out, after quickly flipping through it. I could barely look at her.

She hesitated before quickly continuing her recitation, "I had it with me in the den, where Esme was burning some candles to mask Jake's wet dog scent." Evan cleared his throat, and she hurried on in her roundabout way, "I suppose that's irrelevant. Well, anyways, Emmett was teasing me about something and we began wrestling and knocked over the candles and we didn't notice it until it was too late…I'm so sorry, Cadie."

I took a deep breath, trying not to lash out at the poor girl, who I'm certain had suffered several tongue-lashings and harsh lectures from Evan and her parents already since the unfortunate incident. Choosing my words cautiously, I reproached, "Accidents happen, Nessie. I understand that, but what I don't understand and what bothers me the most is that you took it without my consent. Why did you take it this time? You know all you had to do was ask."

She looked to Evan, with a look of such consternation that I almost thought she was glaring at him. She then stumbled through her explanation, which sounded as if she was making it up as she went along, "Er, you see, Cadie, I didn't know that I could do that, and I had this bet with Emmett… No need to ask me what it was about because it was rather silly and I'm ashamed of it, which is why I didn't even want to mention it to you at all…"

"Never mind, Nessie, but in the future, just ask, please," I interrupted her, suspecting that Evan would force her to keep rambling like that until he felt I was satisfied. I wasn't, but I didn't want to continue to humiliate the girl. Nor, did I think that I was going to get the full explanation anyways, no matter how long she grudgingly talked.

I found out the whole truth after the ugly incident the following week.

I was going to drive over to the Cullens' and then go with Nessie and Evan as they picked up Jacob from the airport from his annual visit to his family, when I discovered my third act of vandalism. Fortunately, Ian was over at Sukey's for the day, so I didn't have to deal with his drama on top of Evan's.

I nearly tripped over my boots as one part of my part of my brain reacted faster than the other part -

My car was no longer facing the house.

The Hearse had been moved so that the trunk was the first thing I saw.

It was the _only _thing I saw. The eyes that I had painted on the back, which had been subconsciously done in imitation of Evan's, were repainted. These new ones had thicker, angrier, and blacker lines that stood out from the metallic black background. But the major change was that instead of his butterscotch yellow – they were scarlet with oozing crimson tear drops_._

They were angry and evil, and I didn't want to go near my car at all. I didn't in fact. I called Evan, and then waited on the porch for him until he got there. It was a good thing I did that too, because I needed him to catch me when I nearly fainted from the sight of the inside of my car.

The interior was filled with white rose petals that were covered in _blood_.

It was horrible and ghastly, and the stench was unbelievable. I'm not sure how Evan withstood it for as long as he did. He eventually sent me into the house to decrease his temptation, but not before we both saw the note taped to the ancient cassette player, which said, "_**Play me**_." When we did, the American pop song "Dirty Little Secret" blared out.

That's when it hit me. This wasn't like the vandalisms before, in which someone with a petty grievance against me lashed out. No, this was a _vampire_ who had beef with Evan and was lashing out at him through me.

_Putain!_

* * *

I could smell it as soon as I arrived. The scent of blood, and not just any blood, but human blood was originating from her car. It made the back of my throat burn and my venom instinctively surge in readiness. I stopped breathing to reduce its impact on me. This helped some, but I couldn't go to Cadie like I wanted to, to comfort her.

Instead I walked around to the back of the car and examined what had alarmed her first. As soon as I saw it, my whole body tensed with the need to commit violence. They were vampire eyes, the kind of a conscienceless monster, and they were put there to taunt me. Cadie was being threatened and my territory was being invaded, and I wanted to rip apart the perpetrator.

Cadie, unnaturally, took comfort from my presence, even though I was at my most dangerous. She stepped off the porch and joined me as I walked towards the driver's side of the car to discover the source of the abominable but tantalizing scent. The sight of the crimson gore made the aching nearly unbearable, and it was all I could do not to sink my teeth into Cadie's neck when I prevented her head from cracking against the ground.

I distracted myself by looking for the note that I knew was going to be there. Sure enough, there was one taped to the stereo. It was in the same familiar handwriting that I came to loath more than I did myself. I took Cadie's keys from her hand and started the car so that I could do as it instructed. After only a few measures of the song played, I felt Cadie stiffen, and when I looked at her face, I could tell from her dilated eyes and open mouth that she was beginning to comprehend the situation that I had been trying to keep from her.

"Cadie," I said gently but firmly, "Can you go into the house, for me please? I'm going to drive it a short distance away, and when Jacob gets here, I'll have him clean it up, good as new."

"No, no, I can clean it. You don't have to do that!" she protested. "You're not even breathing."

My lips twitched into a tight-lipped, but nevertheless amused smile, "You can't even stay upright around it. Relax. I'll have the windows down so fresh air will keep my head cool. Go in, Cadie, and lock the door."

She nodded and headed in. I drove the Hearse down the road and hid it in a dense grove of trees, but only after I called Jasper and confirmed that he was near enough to watch over her. Alice's gift was coming in handy once again.

I wish my abilities were coming in handy just as well, not only with finding the Bloody Bastard, but also with dealing with Cadie. She wasn't going to like the answers to her coming questions.

* * *

The honeymoon stage is so over. The man-boy needs to grow up. Relationships require honesty. They are a partnership, and it is kind of hard to have that when one person has all the power. He's physically strong, intellectually exceptional, gorgeous beyond compare, rich, talented, and now he is hording all the information about our mutual problems. Ach!

Once he returned, breathing like a normal human being and slightly less tense and aloof as before, we got in his truck and went to his house, where he showed me all the notes. Yes, that was plural. He had received three others besides the one left in my car. The first one had been on the back of a photograph saying "tasty," and the second had been painted on the inside of one of my old paint shirts that I had left in the Studio. It said in blood, "inspiring." The last had been more of a series of notes, each leaving commentary on my sketches. That was even more of a violation than the redoing of the paint job on my Hearse.

I wasn't sure what to say to Evan about it all. I knew he was trying to protect me, but he had Nessie lie to me too, and the fact that I am putting him and the Cullens in danger still has to be dealt with, because the "Bloody Bastard" is right – I am Evan's dirty little secret. This psycho vampire can go to the Volturi at any time and tell them that they are breaking the Rule, and it's frustrating that Evan is trying to gloss over it to keep me from worrying, saying things like "If he intended to do so, he would have already." Blah blah blah.

I probably should be more concerned about the likelihood of my continued existence. Normal girls would be worried if a superhuman maniac was after them, I'm sure. However, I have ceased to place myself in that category. I can't control what this person does, and I obviously can't do anything about it, other than to trust in the Cullens to watch out for me.

But they shouldn't have to.

A week after the White Rose Travesty, I was fed up with going in circles and getting nowhere, so I decided to talk to people who I knew would be as objective as possible and willing to give me a straight answer, Carlisle and Esme. I had Nessie distract Evan long enough for me to sneak up to the office where we had prearranged to meet.

Esme kindly handed me a hot cup of tea, having learned that this seems to calm my nerves rather well, and Carlisle greeted me with a warm smile, saying "What can we do for you, Cadie?"

"You can give me answers. Honest ones."

They both settled back, while Carlisle said, "What would you like to know?"

Twisting my hands, feeling a bit ridiculous, I mumbled, "I need to know why you think I'm worth the risk." At their puzzled expressions, I continued more urgently, "I mean, why let me into your home and lives when my knowledge of you endangers you so? You don't have the guarantee that you had with Bella…"

Carlisle softly stated, "You're right. Alice doesn't have a clear vision of you permanently joining the family, to put it delicately, but that doesn't mean it couldn't happen…Even if it doesn't, what you have done for this family has been worth it. I'm sure my wife explained that to you in her letter that she gave you."

"She did mention it, but I'm not sure I fully understood why it was so," I admitted.

Esme smiled sweetly, "You changed Evan. He was bitter, angry, and aloof when he first came to us – "

"Like a cantankerous and taciturn old man," I inserted facetiously.

She laughed, "Yes, like an old man that occasionally had outbursts of a young mischievous and charming boy." More solemnly, she continued, "Despite his pain though, he had a gift for reaching out to others. Jasper struggled intensely with guilt for not being able to be as in control as some of the rest of us, and Evan was able to help him overcome that. Jacob had someone who he could talk to that could share his pain as Edward and Bella resist the idea that Nessie is old enough to see him in a new light. He's done little things like that, but when you came along, he finally doesn't have to pretend to be happy. Thank you."

Humbled, I whispered, "Welcome, I guess."

Carlisle interjected, "May I ask you a question?" When I nodded, he inquired, "How would our answer have changed the situation any?"

Frustrated, I shrugged, admitting, "I don't know how it would have. It doesn't really make a difference, since what's done is done. I guess, I just wanted reassurance from the horse's mouth."

We sat in silence for a little bit until I was able to articulate what I was thinking. "I understand why you would not object to letting Evan and me be friends and more, but why haven't you just left us to our fate? Wouldn't it be safer for you, if you left Evan and me to our folly?"

"Evan's family now," Esme asserted, obviously strongly believing that no other reason was necessary.

Carlisle questioned, concerned, "You consider yours and Evan's relationship folly?"

"Isn't it?" I replied. "Especially, now with all the things that have been going on? Your family is in danger because we foolishly pursued something that seems to bring more harm than good."

"Love is not foolish," Carlisle maintained. "Would you be having these doubts, if whoever it was that's harassing us had not come?"

I barely even hesitated, "No."

He smiled magnanimously, "Then let me put your mind at ease. Whoever this is had a vendetta against Evan before you it seems, and if that is the case, then he would have found some other way to torment him. As Nessie is the easiest target, it would most likely have been her."

Once I got over the horror of his logic, I realized that it was hard to refute. Nearly convinced, I posed yet another question, "Does everyone share the same opinion? I know Jasper and Rosalie were not happy with my intrusion in the beginning…?"

He sighed, "Rosalie is Rosalie. She's jealous of you, for having the possibility of a life that she can never have now. Jasper has come around, however."

Not surprised at his explanation of Rosalie, or really caring for that matter, I focused my attention on his revelation about Jasper, asking "Why?"

He thought about it for a moment, finally saying, "Because of your special abilities, he can't quite sense your emotions like everyone else and he especially can't influence them, but he has a good enough 'read,' as it were, that he can sense the depth of your love for Evan. Alice may not be able to predict for certain that you will be one of us, but because he knows Evan and because of this knowledge of you, he feels certain that you will be, which is good enough for him. There is also the fact that you have become the friend that Nessie so desperately needed."

"Which is something that we all love you for," Esme added.

I chewed on that for awhile. The more I talked with them, the more I felt as if I was rising to the surface of my own pool of confusion and quandaries. But something he said brought up yet another question, "What exactly do you think are my 'abilities'? Evan has never been able to really explain that."

"Well, to use an analogy that Edward once used for Bella, you're brain seems to be tuned to FM, while most everyone else is AM."

"But Jasper can 'sense' my emotions, Edward can get the gist of my thoughts, and Alice gets occasional glimpses of my future …" I pointed out.

"You're right," he agreed, "That is not an apt analogy. To be more accurate, you are like Bella, who is, what a friend of ours has called, a shield, in that you have some kind of protection about you're person. However, it is not a mental one alone like hers. Your shield seems to be inhibiting anything that is in connection with your volition, rather than just your mind."

No wonder Evan never tried to explain this, for it really was beyond me. Seeking clarification, I began to speak my thought process aloud, "So, the reason Edward hears my thoughts with 'static interference' is because my shield … filters out… anything that may convey what my future choice will be, because that may give him an advantage to counter that choice? Like he does when he is playing someone in chess? And the reason Jasper can't influence my emotions is because that trespasses on my freewill and by knowing exactly what I'm feeling might give him an edge like Edward and the same goes for Alice?"

"Yes, your analogy of static is good. It especially works for when Nessie tried her image projecting gift with you. Your shield threw up 'white noise' in case her foreign thoughts might interfere with your autonomy," Carlisle seemed very satisfied that we had come to this level of understanding of my unique version of bizarre.

Feeling slightly more sure of myself, I conveyed my gratitude before Evan began to become too curious as to the reason for my absence, "Thank you, for all this, Carlisle, Esme. It's nice to be able to have my doubts genuinely considered. Evan has been stuck in protective mode to the point that he just wants to give me pat reassurances."

"He could also be just as insecure about this as you are," Carlisle observed. "Talk to him, Cadie."

I nodded in acknowledgement of his wisdom and made my way to the door. Just before I opened it, Esme called after me softly, "Cadie, remember you are not an intrusion to our family. You are a welcome addition."

I walked out that door feeling more secure than I had ever felt since before my world became topsy-turvy. I may have become a target for a psycho vampire, but I was now a confirmed member of the Cullen Clan. What more could a girl like me ask for?

* * *

**AN: **Not as fluffy. How did I do?


	39. Chapter 38 Physics and Chemistry

Chapter 38 – Physics and Chemistry 

"So what did you talk to Esme and Carlisle about yesterday?" Evan asked me nonchalantly.

We were supposed to be studying for our physics test tomorrow, or at least he was supposed to be helping me study. Seeing that this wasn't going to be the case, I shut my textbook and launched into my tale. When I was done, he said nothing. Trying to keep my patience, I prodded, "Thoughts?"

He relaxed a little and gave me a small smile, "I told you so."

I rolled my eyes, but solemnly said as I picked at my bed's covers, "You did, but you've developed the tendency lately of not telling me things that you think might upset me."

He sighed and reached over to still my fidgeting, forcing me to look at him, "I'm sorry. I promise full disclosure from now on."

"Even if it is unpleasant?"

"Even if it is unpleasant," he agreed.

We returned to our studying seemingly in perfect accord. Maybe we were, and it just happened to be short-lived. Whatever the case may be, the truce was ended when he asked me, "So have you decided on what college you are going to? Or are you going to do your globe trotting thing?"

I shrugged, somewhat ambivalent, saying, "I don't know. Have you decided what you are going to do?"

There was no answer for quite some time, until I looked up to see his grim face, "Cadie, you aren't waiting to make a decision because of me are you?"

Not liking the presupposition that lay behind the reason for such a question, I set down my pen and prepared for a long drawn out slug match. "It's not the only factor, but it is a factor, yes," I answered. "Why? Do you want us to go our separate ways after graduation?"

The gauntlet was thrown, and the moment of truth came…and well, truth hurts.

He sighed, shaking his head, "Want? No. But do I think it might be for the best? Yes."

"Why?" I challenged, desperately trying to sound strong and not needy.

He looked away with a pained expression for a moment. I wasn't sure he was going to answer, but he finally turned back and said, "Because I don't want – I can't bring myself to – to think about your heart not beating and I can't – I want you to have a chance to live and do things that you can't do if you – " He broke off his earnest reasoning and placed my hand on his still chest to convey the point he was trying to make, looking at me despairingly.

Placing my other hand on the side of his face in comfort, I argued, "But I don't necessarily have to be one of you…I could do as we planned. Our relationship could be kept secret under whatever ruse we choose to tell the world…"

He pulled away and said curtly, "That would not be fair to you. You deserve someone who can grow old with you, who can love you without the threat of creating a monster, who can give you children. I can't. At least not without – changing you or killing you in the end."

At some level, I felt for him, for his regret, and at some level I was touched that he wanted to give me these things; but that was buried very deep. I was more frozen in anger at his reasoning. I finally was able to bite out in aggravation, "So you want to take yourself out of the picture, just so I'll have the opportunity to find this – this hypothetical someone – who can give me those things that I may not even want?"

He looked sharply at me and said, "Now, don't be like that, Cadie. You may not want those things now, but a few years from now that may change. I don't want you to end up like Rosalie and wishing that you were capable of having children."

"You stupid ass …male chauvinist!" I proclaimed in a heated stage whisper, not wanting Ian to overhear our argument. I just couldn't believe that he was basing his decision about our future on the possibility that I might be like Rosalie! I mean, really, of all people, her?

Then it hit me. This wasn't about me being like the moody prima donna. This was about me being like _her_.

"I'm not Eliza, Evan."

He pulled back as if I had slapped him, obviously more offended by my mentioning her name than by my over the top childish name-calling. He quickly recovered to growl out, "I know you're not."

"No, I don't think you do," I disagreed firmly, and then spacing out my words so that it would get through that marble-thick skull of his, I said, "I – won't – say – 'I love you forever, but…' I'm the kind of girl who makes up her mind and sticks with it."

He softened then, and pulled me to him so that my head lay against his chest, admitting quietly, "I don't know how the logistics will work out, but I do want to have you in my life for as long as possible, Cadie Darby."

I was almost mollified by that, but it was a vague concession on his part. So seeking clarification, I asked quietly, "But that's going to be determined by you, isn't it?"

He had no answer, it seemed, so we sat there in silence, each wrestling with our emotions that were produced by this exchange.

Eventually, we went back to studying for the physics test. However, my mind couldn't help but return to the subject. I wanted to put my faith in what Carlisle had said about Jasper's beliefs concerning my future. I wanted to believe that my desires were enough to overwhelm his conscience, but I knew that Evan Reilly Keegan was as much an unmovable force as Rosalie was, when he got an idea into his head.

Love songs suck, and fairy tales are so not true. A fact I was beginning to realize despite the exceptionalness of our circumstances.

* * *

"You did what?!" I practically howled in frustration. The girl was punishing me. She was passive-aggressively lashing out at me for not seeing things her way.

"I accepted Zach's invitation to the hockey game. It's supposed to be a big one between two rivaling schools, and we haven't hung out in awhile."

"There's a reason for that, Cadie. You know, deranged vampire stalker…?"

She rolled her eyes, replying, "There will be a big crowd, safety in numbers, and all. Even if this boogey-vamp decides to show up, I'm sure you will be there watching out for me like always. What's the problem?"

It's moments like these that I'm reminded of how much she doesn't comprehend my world. Trying not to sound condescending, but needing to drive the point home, I carefully emphasized why it was a problem, "Cadie, if there is a big crowd, there will be lots of people, humans. Humans that will be giving off strong pheromones, having racing hearts, all while they are watching a game that has a tendency to break out into violence, and violence means blood. The vote of confidence in my self-control is appreciated, but not very realistic."

She deflated a little before gearing up again into full stubborn mode, "Well, I'm not going to live my life in fear. No crazy, whether they are a mad drama queen or a twisted vampire, is going to dictate to me how I live my life."

"Besides, I can't back out now. It wouldn't be fair to Zach, and I don't have a good enough reason other than the truth, which I can't tell."

I leveled a disbelieving stare at her, "Really? You can't make anything up? How about I have plans for you that night. The next day is Valentine's, you know."

She shook her head, grinning smugly, "No can do. He already checked with Nessie to make sure there was not a scheduling conflict, and I have nary a sniffle that will support a claim of coming down sick."

In a last desperate attempt to get her to change her plans, I said significantly, "Well, if you won't back out, I'll just have to ensure that he does."

Her mouth dropped open in outrage, and she said, "You wouldn't dare!"

I quirked an eyebrow, "Try me."

She glared at me for quite sometime. I could see the wheels turning and almost taste the cave-in as she realized what I was capable of in order to keep her safe, but then she ground out between clenched teeth, "That won't stop me. I'll still go."

Taken aback by her obstinacy, I rashly parried, "I'm bigger, stronger, have bigger and stronger friends, and therefore, I can stop you against your will, if it means your safety."

"Are you threatening to kidnap me?" she challenged.

"Yes, and I can get away with it because I can 'convince' everyone that we had plans together that evening."

"And the next night? And the next?" she countered coldly. "You can't keep me locked up in an ivory tower forever."

Before I could comment on that, she softened and passionately began to plead, "I _can't_ keep hiding from life, Evan. I _don't_ want to have to keep looking over my shoulder. If whoever this is does come after me, then so be it. It can end."

"You _do_ have a death wish."

She looked quite puzzled at my declaration, saying, "No, I don't. Why would you think that?"

"You want to be bait, for Patrick's sake, Cadie!"

"I don't want to be. But I am willing to be. There's a difference," was her adamant reply.

I gave up then. There was no use arguing against her, and quite frankly, I wanted it to end too. I silently began to make a preparation list in my head. I'd ask Jacob to help, and Emmett. Rosalie wouldn't be happy with me, but Emmett would certainly relish in the possibility of the coming show down.

Dia cabhrú liom.

* * *

I went to the game with mixed emotions. I felt victorious for getting my way. I know it sounds stupid and immature, my putting myself in jeopardy and fighting with Evan just to go to a hockey game, but after our conversation on Sunday, I began to realize that our whole relationship was dictated on his terms. I was the one who always had to do the convincing in order to get to the next step, and it usually required a near death experience as well.

Now, I'm not hoping that the Bloody Bastard will show up and endanger my life so that Evan can rescue me and then miraculously see things my way. No, I just wanted to grasp this one moment of happiness with Zach with both hands. No matter what Evan and I come to agree on concerning our relationship's future, I would never be able to experience this opportunity with Zach again. It's my senior year, and I want to be happy. Why try to preserve a life, if one is not willing to live it?

I just wish Evan could understand that.

The game had been as fantastic as Zach had promised. It was a high-scoring, neck-and-neck type of game, and the fans had been wild in their enthusiasm. It had been such a relief to lose myself in that and to scream and yell and boo, bleeding off my negativity that I had been carrying all week. Zach was also as entertaining to watch as I had imagined. He let go of his usual self-consciousness and was a boisterous jeerer as he liked neither team.

The drive home was equally amazing as we rode out on the post-game high, rehashing the spectacular plays we had seen. Silence took over after awhile, and I was beginning to drift off to sleep when Zach asked me, "So what have you and Evan been fighting about this week?"

That woke me right up.

"Where did you hear that?"

He glanced away from the road briefly to give me a disproving look, before answering, "Come on, Cadie. Aside from the rumor mill that says you've been dumped or vice versa? I do work with Jacob after school and I have eyes."

He glanced at me again and asked sympathetically, "Do you want to talk about it? With a 'completely objective third party observer with absolutely no personal interest in the matter'?"

I chuckled at his quoting the American chic flick. He was so into Amanda Bynes that I was unsurprised that he knew that line so well. Sighing, I replied with a question, "What do you think about my relationship with Evan? You never have really given an opinion."

"Whoa," he blew out, obviously caught by surprise. When he recovered, he shrugged, "I didn't ever think it was my place to give one, but since you are asking…I guess, I thought if he was making you happy, then you should go for it, even if he and his family are a little bit creepy."

I chuckled at that last part and asked him, "Did I ever tell you my theories that I had about them before I got to know them?"

He shook his head no, grinning in anticipation of something highly entertaining in its off-the-wall-ness. I didn't disappoint, apparently, as he hooted in amusement and slapped the steering wheel, saying, "Oh man, that is priceless. You never cease to amaze me with your bizarreness, Cadie."

I ducked my head, and said cheekily, "Well, I try."

The mood became somber again, when he asked me, "Why did you want my opinion, now? Are you having second thoughts?"

I shook my head no, and then realizing he couldn't see me do that, I replied, "No, no second thoughts, but I am confused. I have never been in a relationship before and so sometimes I wonder if what Evan and I have is healthy. I mean, how we relate to each other. We have this cycle where he arbitrarily decides something and behaves accordingly. I'll call him out on it, and we argue. Then we don't talk for awhile, and then we argue it out again until one of us caves."

He thought about that for awhile, and then he slowly shared his thoughts, "Well, I'm no expert, because I too have not had a significant other, but it seems to me from what I've observed of my sisters' relationships that this is pretty normal as long as one person isn't always doing the caving."

I nodded thoughtfully, but then asked anxiously, "But is it natural to always be fighting like that?"

He laughed, and insightfully declared, "The way I see it - it is completely natural that you two behave that way."

Not expecting this, I asked, "What do you mean?"

He shrugged, explaining, "It's your shared chemistry. You two are creative types that feed off the energy of each other. So you push each others' buttons and go at it, and since you are attracted to each other, there's probably some sexual tension there as well."

"Zach!" I exclaimed in part astonishment and part mortification.

He shied away from my punch to his shoulder, laughing, "Hey! I'm just calling it like I see it. All that repressed emotional energy has to express itself somehow. It's a law of physics. But please don't tell me when that is no longer a problem. I don't want to know!"

"Don't worry. I won't," I heartily affirmed, but couldn't help grinning to myself in self-mockery, for it was a wonder that we had gotten that far in a discussion about relationships without the subject of sex coming up. He is a teenage boy, after all.

When I got home, the house was dark. Ian must have gone to bed. Evidently, he wasn't worried about me while I was out with Zach as much as he was when I was with Evan.

I silently made my way to my room, but that was nearly ruined when a dark but slightly luminescent form jerked open my door, grabbed me, and hauled me up before tossing me on to the bed.

Leaning down, he whispered, "Enjoy your night? Good. Because tomorrow's mine," before lowering cold, hard lips to mine, roughly kissing me with such intensity that I nearly blacked out from lack of oxygen.

And then he was gone.

* * *

**AN:** 1) I adore Zach.

2) The line "loves songs suck and fairy tales aren't true" comes from a Bowling for Soup song, "Smoothie King."

3) Gaelic to English translation of Dia cabhru liom (which please correct me if I got this wrong) = God help me.

And 4) thank you to all who have made it this far and who have consistently reviewed. Your encouraging words keep this story going ; )


	40. Chapter 39 Letters and Cliches

Chapter 39 – Letters and Clichés 

Blood. Blood. Blood. It was _not_ funny. Touché, little man…

_It was a cool, clear, and crisp morning. The sun was peaking out over the mountains and bestowing its weak rays out over the clearing below, kissing the glacial figurines, which caused them to sparkle not unlike their makers._

_A slight fluttering of something white caught my eye as I stared out from my bedroom's advantageous viewpoint. Something that should not be there. I hastily made my way down to investigate and what I found made my inner-demon roar with a mixture of indignation, rage, and gleeful delight. It now had an excuse to be let loose…_

_Draped upon the Greek mask of tragedy held by one of nine muses was a shirt. And not just any shirt, but an old shirt covered in accidental paint splotches. Even if I had not caught her cinnamon and woodsy fragrance, I would have known it was hers for those splotches alone. I had seen her wear it often enough. The thing that made my figurative blood boil was the _un_-accidental stain._

_In blood, the Bastard had written: __**Inspiring **_

_…My whole body stiffened as I approached the tree outside Cadie's room. _Something was rotten in Denmark_._

_The stench was overwhelming, and not the kind that I had grown accustomed to associating with the Mutt. No, this was t__he deranged nomad's scent. It had a foul, putrid quality to it, at least in my mind. I detested and loathed that Bastard's odor with every fiber of my being. And it was hanging about the spot beneath Cadie's window - yet again. And even worse, in the very tree in which I usually utilized in my guardian duties._

_After futilely following his exit trail and leaving it to Jacob to pursue, I returned to the tree and noticed for the first time a package carefully placed in my customary spot. It contained Cadie's sketchbook. Her, now, desecrated sketchbook._

_All the carefully drawn images of myself were marred by the addition of blood stains upon my hands and drops of scarlet where my eyes had once been. Of the images of Nessie and the rest of Cadie's female friends, lewd comments were inscribed in the same sanguineous ink. Of Cadie's self-portrait, there was not a trace…_

My blood chills (metaphorically speaking, of course) yet again as I recall these memories. I saved what I could from Cadie's notebook, burning the edges where The Bloody Bastard had written in the margins and reducing to ash what I could not salvage. I tried to spare her anymore pain and anxiety, which is why I had Nessie take the blame (In return, I had to promise to help her convince her parents to buy her an Aston Martin for her upcoming birthday). In retrospect, that was not the wisest course of action I could have taken, but I did not regret sparing her seeing the original defilement.

When Cadie forced me to explain why I had known to look for a note amidst the White Rose Tragedy, I also omitted where I found her despoiled paint shirt. I'm not sure if it was deliberate or just convenient, but such a placement certainly gave the S.O.B.'s message a double meaning. Neither of which I cared to contemplate and greatly resented being forced to do so. Therefore, Cadie was to only endure the one. I do not know if that was wise either, but I do know that it gave me a modicum of self-respect. If nothing else, I could protect her sanity from the fixated freak of nature.

I sit here now at my writing desk with a similar quest: the wisest course of action in dealing with Cadie. I had to somehow repair the damage done by our argument the other day. If I did not, our relationship status post-high school would become a moot point. For, even with Emmett's and Jake's help, there had been far too many moments when Cadie could have disappeared without a trace. The old adage is incorrect: there is not safety in numbers.

My concerns for her continued well-being in a long-term relationship with me were not unreasonable. However, I would grovel if it meant that her reckless behavior would desist.

And if it meant that I didn't have to see her act all chummy to the point of flirtatious with that overgrown grease monkey.

I sighed and began an outline for all I wanted to say. Well, minus my bitter thoughts that ran along the lines of her being in serious trouble if she did not fully appreciate the sacrifice I was making for acknowledging this _infernal_ Day of Pink.

* * *

Valentine's Day had been spectacular. It was nothing like last year and nothing like I had been dreading. All during the past week, I had been developing an intense loathing for it. I had come to realize that this commercialized holiday was even worse to endure as a half of a fighting pair than an ambivalent anti-pink single.

After Evan's little brutish he-man display the night before, I was really unsure of how the day was going to go, but like I said, it was fantastic.

He picked me up in his freshly cleaned truck, dressed semi-formally, which included a dinner jacket, making me wish that he was in a tux. Once we were on our way, he offered me a single Judy Garland rose that was beginning to bloom in all its multi-colored glory and a single budding blue rose.

Raising my eyebrows, I commented dryly, "That's an interesting combination."

He nodded and asked quietly, "What do you know of the symbolism of roses and their colors?"

I took a minute to sniff them, before answering cryptically, "A little."

I would have just left it at that, making him squirm a bit, but my curiosity got the best of me, so I decided to institute my own version of glasnost, candidly admitting, "But not enough to know how it applies to us."

He smirked and handed me a letter, teasing, "Here, read this. It should keep you occupied until we get there."

"Where's there?" I couldn't help but ask.

"Read it, Cadie," he chuckled.

I stuck out my tongue, and then opened the letter carefully, making sure I didn't cut myself on the envelope.

In his elegant and neat handwriting, he had written …

_A Ghra, A Stor, Mo Chidhre,_

_It has been over a year since you have entered my life, and I must say despite our ups and downs it has been the best of my extended existence. You have brightened my world and challenged me, forcing me to grow, and as someone of my "constitution" that is difficult to do. I love you for it._

_Concerning our current down, I know that I have things to apologize for and although I may not change my opinion, I ask that you be patient with me as I work to change my attitude. I want today to be special, so I hope that we can look past our differences, glaring that they might be._

_I chose roses, despite their cliché for today, because they remind me so much of you. It is the most thorniest of plants. (And, yes, the grammatically incorrect usage of superlatives was necessary, for you are a prickly pear, _a run_.) You could give Rosalie a run for her money on the infamous title of Woman with the Sharpest Tongue. This is probably not the best way to go about making an apology, but I wanted you to see that I love you, thorns and all. _

_I chose the Judy Garland rose for several reasons. One was that its color and vibrancy and strength remind so much of you. When I first observed you, I couldn't believe that you had the inner strength to have a stare down with Edward, but now I know differently. It is a quality I admire greatly, even while at times it drives me to distraction to the great amusement of Emmett, Nessie, and the Mutt._

_I also chose it for its colors. Yellow denotes our friendship. I cherish that, Cadie. I am deeply grateful that we were able to grow so close that way, to open our hearts completely to each other first. In light of that, yellow also represents jealousy, and last night I was intensely jealous of Zach. I wanted it to be me who made you laugh and your eyes light up with joie de vivre. I know that it is a bit inconsistent with my wish that you could find that "hypothetical someone," but I'm told love isn't very logical, so bear with me please._

_As you must know, red symbolizes love. "You have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love you." I truly do. Orange characterizes passion and desire, and I desire you, a thaisce. You are my pearl that I would sell all my possessions to obtain._

_As for the blue rose, I chose it for its signifying attaining the impossible. _

_We may not have a Bella and Edward romance, Cadie, but I have hope that our romance will be no less grand._

_Love,_

_Evan R. Keegan_

The letter had indeed kept me occupied until we reached his home. In fact, I was still reading in it when he parked and undid my seatbelt. When I finished, I sniffed and said, "I hate you."

He laughed heartily at that and pulled me to him, so that he could kiss the end of my nose.

Before he could pull back, I raised my face to his and kissed him, moving my warm and "vibrant" lips against his cold ones and sinking my fingers into his curls to hold him there.

It was me who pulled back though, when I heard Jacob's disgusted request to "Get a room!" and Nessie's corresponding giggle.

Evan fixed them with a glare for the interruption, and then he looked at me with an impish grin, stating more than questioning, "I take it that I'm forgiven, then?"

"You've been granted a temporary reprieve," I informed him primly, and then I inquisitively asked, "Are we at our final destination?"

"No," he answered smugly as he assisted me out of the truck, and then he gave my roses to Nessie to keep in water for me, asking me, "Do you want to get there by the fastest means possible, or can you keep your curiosity in check so that you can enjoy the hike?"

I chose to hike.

It was beautiful. The snow was melting off the trees, and the mountain streams were consequently trickling and bubbling at a faster rate. We didn't see a whole lot of animal life for the reasons that it was still winter and that they seemed to sense that a predator was amongst them. It was that eerily quiet.

We arrived at the mysterious destination, and I wanted to slug him.

It was an old millhouse that he and Esme had probably restored, because it now looked like an ivory tower with ivy vines climbing all over one wall to boot.

He chuckled at my expression, saying, "The irony is not lost on me either."

We entered through the double oak doors, and then he showed me around before he took me to the top to show off the panoramic view. It was almost as good as my Eyrie vista.

The rest of the afternoon we spent talking. He made his apologies, and so did I. We talked about the past year, and our favorite memories. We stayed and watched the sunset, and then we danced under the stars with him humming low under his breath a song I didn't recognize, but was haunting in its longing.

He insisted that I ride on his back, so I could get to my dinner that Esme had waiting for me (fettuccini alfredo). He confessed that he would have had it there, if he could have contrived a way to keep it warm. It was very endearing his disappointment that he couldn't give me the stereotypical romantic evening under the stars, but I was kind of glad for that. I didn't want us to be that clichéd.

Evan brought me home in time for the curfew that Ian had set for us, but he promised to join me in my room so that we could have a few more hours together on that wonderful night.

I was deeply grateful that he did so, because taped to my vanity mirror was a newspaper clipping and a photograph. And on the mirror itself was a note written in the Bastard's favorite medium.

The newspaper clipping was of a story about a young girl brutally murdered and left out in the snow. The photograph (with horrific clarity) showed that what little of her blood that was left had stained the snow beneath her mutilated body.

The message: "_**Did you enjoy yourself this weekend? I did.**_"

I prayed for all that I was worth that it wasn't her sanguineous fluid on my mirror. Ruining my reflection. Ruining my evening.

I doubted my wishes were granted.

* * *

I must say that my immunity to the scent of blood is being exponentially developed because of these macabre "gifts." The Bastard was becoming extremely clichéd and unimaginative in them. A fact for which I hoped would soon work in our favor when it came to catching him.

It needed to be soon. I couldn't stand to see Cadie exposed to this kind of ugliness. She who loved beauty and light and life should not have to know about my former world of death and darkness.

I knew something was wrong when she was staring frozen at a piece of paper and not hearing my light taps on the window that she should have had already unlocked and opened. When she did open it, she looked ghostly pale and tears were pooling in her eyes on the verge of spilling over as she fixed her horrified and pleading gaze on me.

I picked her up and set her in my lap and rocked her, stroking her hair and whispering comforting promises, until her shaking ceased, all the while staring stonily at the message on the mirror. The Bastard was a coward, choosing to go after a young girl, not even remotely connected to me, to hurt me instead of facing me head on. He was going to regret it. It would not be a quick ending if I got my hands on him.

When she had recovered, she interrupted my dark musings with "He's very dramatic, isn't he? Leaving bloody notes on the mirror on Valentine's Day, of all things, and he probably did that poor girl in on Friday the 13th too."

I chuckled, relieved that at least her sense of irony was kicking in some.

"Very unimaginative," I whispered into her hair before lifting her up and setting her back down on the bed. "Are you going to be alright in here, while I go and get something to clean your mirror?"

"Do you even know where my cleaner stuff is at?" she asked, typically answering (or not answering, depending on how one looked at it) my question with one in return.

I smirked and said, "Watch me."

With that I did my version of dashing quickly out of the room and down the stairs to the kitchen where the necessary items were located under the sink, never making a sound.

She commented on that when I returned, "You even know where all the creaky floorboards are at, impressive."

I turned back to her and wiggled my eyebrows, "I aim to please."

Her responding muffled giggle was music to my ears. I loved it when she laughed.

After everything was cleaned up and she had finished getting ready for bed, I had her snuggle down into her blankets so that my presence would not cause her any discomfort, and I got into the bed with her, placing one arm under her pillow and the other across her middle to draw her closer to me. She drifted off to sleep listening to me tell her tales of Erin. They were tales that I'm sure my mother had once told me when I was a boy, but time had faded those memories over the years. Time, and that one fateful night.

I prayed that I would be able to stop whoever this was. I did not want Cadie to share the same nightmarish fate as I.

* * *

**AN: **1) First line was referring to a youtube video (entitled Blood or Blood, It's not funny) that I find to be hilarious. Check it out, if you haven't already.

2) Gaelic to English translation:

_a ghra = my love_

_a stor = my darling _

_a run = my dear_

_a thaisce = my treasure_

_3 ) _French to English translation:

_mo chridhe = my heart_

and 4) Like? Yes? No? Maybe so? ... ; )


	41. Chapter 40 Ghost of Christmas Past

Chapter 40 – Ghost of Christmas Past

I find myself strangely wandering the woods alone. _Odd, I am never alone these days_, I think to myself. This troubling thought is soon dismissed as I begin to admire my surroundings.

The sunless spring weather of the Laurentian Mountains produces a sense of peaceful contentment. I come across a meadow with receding patches of snow that have wild flowers of all sorts of hues: golden yellow, lilac, and pale pink. They are all valiantly poking out, fighting to receive what little sunlight there might be found between clouds. It is very picturesque, and I feel that old, familiar urge to stop and capture the moment. But then I get that horrible, ominous feeling of impending doom…

And that is when I see it.

**Blood.**

The joy and contentment that I had been experiencing was now replaced with horror and grief as the presence of this grisly substance spoiled the purity of the snow and the glorious simplicity of the pale lilac petals that I had been previously admiring. I dreaded to find what other desecration this discovery portended.

My eyes unwilling follow the trajectory of the spray to a puddle of blood. And then I see another and another.

It's this trail of blood that I feel compelled to follow. A small part of me screams: _What are you doing? Run! Run! _And another part of me wonders why I am not; it is, after all, the logical thing to do, especially, if one isn't all that curious to begin with (which I'm not). However, my body continues in a dazed like way to drift along in a quest to find the source of this – whatever it is. It is as if I am following this unwritten rule: There is to be no deviations from the script. Therefore, I **must **investigate.

At the base of an old tree, the kind commonly depicted in graveyards, is a body. I turn it over and immediately recognize her. There is no mistaking her golden curls and dark chocolate brown eyes. Well, eye.

It is Nessie.

Her left eye is staring up at me, unmoving and empty. Her normally rosy color is faded. Her normally twitching-with-mirth lips are frozen to form an expression of pure terror.

She is dead. Killed in the most vicious and savage of ways.

I could not tell what the fatal blow was. It could have been the swipe to her face, which left the right side pulverized and her right eye-socket grotesquely empty…

It could have been the one that slashed open her pale throat, so that it was almost inconceivable that her head was still connected to the rest of her …

It could have been the one that made a crater out of her chest …

Or it could have been one of the several assaults on her abdominal region, in which disembowelment was the result. Her intestines, or what was left of them, spilled out of her hollowed out abdominal cavity onto my shoes.

_I now have ruby-red slippers_, I noted detachedly, before I began to look around for whatever could have done this – this atrocity. I look around the meadow and…

And find myself no longer alone.

A figure radiating malice and hatred walks – no, _stalks_ towards me.

I go to scream –

And then I wake up.

* * *

Not much has changed in the past month. It has been pretty normal. Well, normal as my life has been since I've moved in with Ian. Vampires, werewolves or shape-shifters, and boogey-men were still all coming out of the woodworks. Oh my.

The notes kept coming. There was like four or five more. I quit counting after the one where he promised Evan that my death would be perfect and that these dime-a-dozen girls were just a rehearsal. It was delivered in the format of a play, apparently. Evan said that it was filled with pages and pages of graphic descriptive detail. For once, I let him do the chivalrous thing and not show me. My mind didn't need any more fuel added to its already blazing imagination.

I felt terrible that I was intentionally trying to become unaffected by the deaths of these poor girls. But it was the only way I could keep myself sane. The guilt for inadvertently being somewhat responsible for their deaths was going to eat me inside out otherwise.

Instead, I did what I did best. I worried about something far more trivial in comparison.

The Cullens had guests this week. Nessie told me all about them. They used to live in Denali, Alaska, but have recently located to somewhere in Saskatchewan. Almost all of them are paired off, just like the Cullens. Kate is blond and has the ability to generate electric current over her skin so that anyone she touches gets shocked and incapacitated if she so chooses. Her mate is a recent addition to their family. I think his name is Gabriel or Garrett. Nessie likes him a lot because he is adventurous and may have been an American Revolutionary.

There is also supposed to be a woman named Carmen and her mate Eleazar. Carlisle and Evan are interested in introducing me to him because he apparently can give them and me some insight into my gift. It's a good thing that they are all practicing vegetarians or that might get a little tricky.

The thing that I'm concerned about or I should say "the someone" I'm worried about, is the single one Tanya. According to Nessie, she too is feeling the pangs of loneliness. She had a thing for Edward and then Bella came along, and then she expressed her interest in Evan, when she met him. Evan assures me that he has never felt anything for her, but a little voice in the back of my mind whispers that this was because he was still mourning Eliza and that now he has recovered somewhat, he might feel differently.

Ridiculous right?

* * *

They were all beautiful. They were all charming. It was disgusting.

I'm pathetic really. Other people's good fortune to have looks that are better than mine has never bothered me this much before. Not even when I came to this school and saw Rosalie.

However, it was so difficult being amongst them that weekend. I now feel the pangs of regret for whatever quirk that I have that makes me exempt from experiencing Jasper's soothing presence. If it had done any good, I would have sat next to him in order to alleviate some of the inner turmoil I was experiencing. It also didn't help that I knew Edward was able to catch the gist of what I was thinking. By trying to purposely think of something other than what I had become obsessed with, I contrarily focused more on it. Ach!

I think I could have gotten over it, but Tanya was a strawberry blond beauty. Eliza had been a strawberry blond beauty. She was perfect. She was confident and classy and fun, and she was exactly who I would have pictured with Evan instead of myself.

They were all amazing though. I'm pretty sure they had rolled their eyes in disbelief that the Cullens had broken The Rule again, but they didn't hold it against me. Kate and Tanya immediately wanted me to start telling stories on Evan, exclaiming that they couldn't believe some of the stuff that they had heard about him from the others, which made me curious to know what he had been like when they saw him last.

The American patriot's name was Garrett, and Nessie was right: He was a riot. He was tall and rangy, and he wore his sandy blond hair back in a ponytail like it was still the eighteenth century. He also had the disposition to gamble on just about anything, so he was always taking Emmett up on the littlest of things. For instance, on Friday night they had a bet going on to see which of them could sneak up on Jacob and scare the bejesus out of him. Neither of them could, of course. Garrett couldn't because Jake was extra sensitive to his new scent, and Emmett couldn't because, well, he's Emmett.

Carmen was my favorite. Her accent reminded me of Ronnie's Alex. It was soothing and comforting. Something I needed during the discussion produced from Eleazar's revelation on Saturday evening.

"So Carlisle has told me that you are having trouble with a ghost from your past, Evan," Eleazar stated, interjecting a somber mood to the evening.

Evan sighed, agreeing, "Yeah, I – we've," he grabbed my hand as he corrected himself, "been having a problem with a vampire that seems obsessed with me and now Cadie."

"And you have not been able to track him down?" he asked a little amazed.

"He seems to be able to have his own version of a shield, because neither Alice nor I can sense him," Edward informed him regretfully. Alice confirmed this with a frustrated grimace.

"Hmm…" was all he said before drifting off into thoughtful silence.

I couldn't tell too much from his expression, but whatever the Cullens saw in his face must have been significant because they all instantly became tense with anticipation or something. Evan asked him eagerly, "Do you know of someone who might have such an ability?"

He shook his head no, explaining, "I have not personally met anyone who could stump Alice so, but a few decades ago, when I was with the Volturi, there was an American that was able to evade Demetri. Alec and Felix liked to taunt him with this."

He drifted off into silence once again, before abruptly asking, "Can I see these newspaper clippings?"

Evan nodded and got up swiftly to go and get them. It did not surprise me that he kept them, but had it been me, I would have burned them just after I recovered from gagging as a result of their contents.

He came back within seconds and handed them to him, saying, "Here."

He looked over them quickly and then went back to examine them more carefully. When he was finished he let out a low whistle, declaring, "Whatever you have done, Evan, must have been serious because he is coming dangerously close to attracting the Volturi's attention again."

"Who?" I blurted, unable to withstand the suspense.

"Draven Brac."

"Why him?" Evan inquired hastily, taken aback by the name, which he obviously recognized.

Eleazar shrugged, "The flitting in and out of town, the long absences between incidents that slowly shorten as the threats became more explicit, the mind games are all faintly reminiscent of what I had heard of this rogue vampire from the others, as well as the fact that his previous victims were left in such a dramatic manner, very photographic."

"How well do you know this Draven?" Garret asked Evan.

He grimaced absently, "Not well. He was an associate of Marek Bastien's."

I watched Evan's face carefully during this exchange. He still seemed taken aback and lost in his memories, struggling to find a reason for the seemingly sudden renewing of the acquaintance (to use a greatly understated euphemism) but after exchanging a look with Edward, he slowly admitted, "He may hold me responsible for his mate's death."

Edward nodded, seconding, "It's not logical, but I highly doubt this guy operates on sound reason."

This cryptic answer seemed to be enough of an explanation for everyone else, so they did not pursue that line of questioning like I wanted to. Instead, they began formulating strategies for dealing with this revenge-seeking lunatic.

It all became too much for me, so I just sat there and focused on the voices, using their various pitches and speech cadences to identify them. Even that became too much, and I became loopy in my numbness, creating a mental symphony from them. Nessie and Alice were flutes. Emmett the base drums, and Jasper, I had chosen to be the saxophone.

I had just decided that Carmen would be the cello, when Evan made our excuses and led me out to the truck to take me home, much to my relief.

* * *

I chalked Cadie's withdrawal in the conversation to exhaustion, since she was not one to refuse to give her opinion.

However, when we got to her room, she was wide awake and eager to talk.

"Evan?" She whispered over her shoulder as she lay cradled in my arms.

"Hmmm?" I responded softly, while I played with her hair absently.

"Who is Marek Bastien?"

I sighed, not really wanting to go into detail, but not wanting to shut her out either, so I began with, "Marek Bastien was the coven leader of Baton Rouge who saved my life during a very dark time of my existence … from a vicious, short-tempered, and territorial vampire named Vlad."

Her eyes widened as she turned to face me. Reaching for my face, she asked concernedly, "Evan?"

I took her hand in mine and said reassuringly, "I'm alright, Cadie, as you can see."

She nodded, and then pressed forward, "How are he and Draven connected to you?"

I hesitated, not sure how to tell her without giving her more cause for concern, and then just plunged in, saying, "It was about forty years ago, I was in the New Orleans area, when Draven approached me in a club out of the blue to tell me that Marek was calling in his favor. I never saw Draven after that because he was on the run at the time from, I guess, the Volturi. Dehlia and Marek never explained."

She nodded, still looking curious, causing me to sigh again, "You want to know about Dehlia, don't you?"

She bit her lip, looking at me anxiously before saying, "Nothing that you could ever tell me about that time and what you had done would make me love you any less. You are a different person now. But …as you wish."

I touched my forehead to hers in gratitude for her understanding of my reluctance and whispered, "I love you" before restarting my story.

"Marek needed me for my special skills. He was experiencing some territory poachers that needed to be routed out. Marek is a shrewd and urbane leader. He knew that handling the situation the traditional way would result in extensive bloodshed and a visit from our Italian peacekeepers. Therefore, he tried to rid himself of them by more unconventional methods."

As I recounted the circumstances that surrounded mine and Marek's reunification, I felt myself get lost in the memories. Marek Bastien was a callous vampire who had a survival of the fittest philosophy to life, which is not unsurprising as he was a lawyer during the era that Darwin's theory came out. He had gloated once that he was a successful one, entering into his late thirties when he was attacked. He looks it too, with his long slicked back black hair, except for the fact that he is more muscular than one would imagine an attorney-at-law to be. My strongest memory of him to this day is of his dark red eyes glowing with bloodlust right after he ripped apart Vlad, whom I had accidentally earned the ire of.

"When I got there, he explained to me that he needed me to join his patrols as they searched for these trespassers and then convince them to leave town. If that did not work, I was to lean on them enough to give the other members of his coven a distinct advantage. Dehlia Vaughn was one of his regular people, and I think she hooked up with Draven, when he was recruited by Marek. I guess, his skill at psychological warfare impressed Marek enough to employ him temporarily."

"Dehlia was a bit psychotic herself, very young and hot-headed..." I recalled her cranberry eyes flashing angrily as she tossed her cinnamon brown hair in irritation when Marek announced that I was to be a team leader. I soon discovered why he had done that. Dehlia, although at least ten years into the vampiric life, was still much like a newborn, eager to spill blood or to tear apart those who would dare deprive her of anything she considered hers. I continued, "Marek recognized this, so had made me her team leader. She resented that because she felt that she had the seniority."

"Anyways, one night we were out patrolling, and we discovered a few of the poachers. She flew off the handle, ignoring my orders to stay back until I had them under control. I couldn't keep her in check and begin to work my magic on them, so what advantage we might have had by my presence was nullified. What made matters worse was that there was more of them nearby. It was a trap." I paused, and then concluded simply with "I was the only one to survive."

Her eyes widened as she whispered, "That's horrible."

I nodded and squeezed her to me gently, chuckling darkly, "Yes, not a very good bedtime story, I'm afraid."

This resulted in mischievous gleam to appear in her sea green eyes, as she said, "Oh, I don't know. It certainly explains why you have never taken your shirt off in my presence. I mean, I know you can't feel ashamed about your physique, so it must be the fact that you don't want to show me any of your battle wounds, like the ones Jasper has."

I smirked at her attempt to lighten the mood, "Been imagining me shirtless have you?"

She grinned cheekily now, "Yes, and since you have so kindly satisfied my curiosity thus far…?"

I dipped my head down so that I could kiss the hollow of her throat, before replying, "I have always suspected you were a brazen little hussy, so... no."

Once she recovered from that display of affection, she lifted her eyebrows in mock outrage, asking, "So the reason for your modesty has really been because you wanted to save me from my lack of ability to behave myself?"

"Something, like that," I replied as I stuck my nose in the air, playing along.

She snorted, "How chivalrous of you."

"G'night, Cadie" was my only response, hoping to curb her persistence.

She looked at me with a cute little frown, muttering under her breath, "Well, it was worth a try," and then she kissed me on the cheek before settling down to try to sleep.

It wasn't long before she drifted off. I carefully brushed her hair back, whispering into her ear, "Sweet dreams," although I wasn't certain that she could have any after all she had learned tonight.

* * *

**AN:** and the Phantom of the Ghastly is revealed! What do you think? of Draven? of this chapter altogether?


	42. Chapter 41 Insecurities and Foolishness

Chapter 41 – Insecurities and Foolishness

I was sitting out on the balcony again, watching the snow fall to the ground in graceful swirls, when Tanya singled me out. Cadie was in the garage with Nessie and Jacob, helping them design a paint job for Nessie's first car, an Aston Martin Vanquish. I had decided to remove my introspective self from the equation, when I noticed Cadie becoming distracted and losing some of her enjoyment in the project out of her concern for me.

"She is something else, your Cadie," she declared as she plopped herself, quite elegantly, next to me.

"I know," I agreed, grinning smugly. "But it is always good to hear others share in my opinion. Why do you?"

"Well, I do believe she fits what that Mr. Darcy would require of an accomplished woman. She does have knowledge of music, drawing, and the modern languages, not to mention of painting, and she does seem to have 'improved her mind by extensive reading.' Well done, Evan."

I laughed out of shock, teasing, "It seems that you have too, concerning the latter. Since when have you picked up a book?"

She waved dismissively, "Oh, I do that on occasion, a very rare occasion, but it's been known to happen."

"Hmm," I grunted, "Well, I'll be sure to pass the compliment along."

She put her hand lightly on my arm and added softly, "Moreover, she makes you smile in a way that not even darling Renesmee has been able to do. A fact for which I am extremely jealous."

I patted her hand sympathetically, "I have been truly blessed, and if that is possible for me, Tanya, it can be for you too."

She leaned in to kiss me on the cheek, dangerously close to my mouth, before leaning back and smirking, "Well, who is to say that I even want to be in a monogamous relationship? There are so many delightfully warm and charming young men that I have yet to meet."

I snorted at her shamelessness, but still encouraged her with a "Thatta girl." She dealt much better with her loneliness than I ever did.

Her visit did the trick though. My mood was lifted, and I could now bask in the reality that I no longer was in the same boat as Tanya, as long as I could keep Draven at bay.

* * *

Evan's recollections had given me considerable food for thought. Although I had joked about his scars that I presumed he had, it terrified me to think about how he had earned them. I knew that he had run with a "rough" crowd during his darkest of years, but this was the first time that had been defined. I was both regretful that I was the weak human who could do nothing to help him, nothing to protect him, and grateful that he had the Cullens to look out for him for me; and from all I knew of them, they had experience in this department that I seriously lacked.

I chose to dwell on the latter sentiment and to trust them. This strategy was working well for me, except for the fact that the presence of Tanya and her family seemed to be necessary in their grand strategy. My frequent presence at their house was also a part of this strategy, and my cover was to be giving my artistic opinion on Nessie's new car, which was currently black.

So a week later, I find myself in the garage trying to help Nessie find the proper format of expressing her unique individuality.

"You're not going to do something like Cadie's Hearse, are you?" was Jacob's apprehensive question.

I rolled my eyes, and stiffly informed him, "Of course, she won't. That paint job suits that style of car. On this one, however, it would be a crime."

"Exactly," he agreed in relief.

"Hey, guys? You do realize that it is my opinion that matters most, right?" Nessie inserted slightly annoyed.

I snorted and Jacob muttered, "How could we forget?" earning himself a slap from Nessie.

I turned to share my amusement with Evan, but he wasn't smiling. He seemed to have not really being paying any attention. I felt my smile slip a little as I recalled that he had been doing that a lot this past week.

He seemed to have felt my gaze on him because he came out of his reverie to give me a reassuring grin that didn't quite make it to his tawny eyes.

I was about to question him, when Nessie asked me, "So should I do flames on the hood or decals on the side you think?"

I was in the middle of teasing her about how I thought it was her opinion that mattered when I felt Evan slip by me and give me a gentle squeeze in goodbye before exiting. I wanted to go after him, but both Nessie and Jacob shook their heads, so I stayed.

Nessie eventually decided to go metallic black with blue and silver decals down the side, and a half hour after that she decided that they would be thin elongated lightning bolts starting out just above the front wheels and thinning out just before they reached the back ones. We were headed into the house, when I heard Evan's and Tanya's mingled laughter drift towards us from the front of the house. I thought about going to join them and stake my claim, but something held me back.

It was pride. Well, a bruised ego, really. I didn't like the fact that she was cheering him up when I couldn't. So I went inside to the hot cup of tea that Esme had waiting for me and tried to find the humor in the situation. It was hard, but I finally came up with the irony that Evan was not the only one who was jealous in our relationship. _Pathetic_.

* * *

The Cullens' guests left the next day, so that they could lull Brac into a false sense of security, or so I was told. I didn't really care. I was just relieved that they were leaving, thinking that their absence would decrease my feelings of insecurity.

I thought wrong.

In fact, they festered beneath the surface for a week, straining our relationship to the point that Evan felt the need to bring it up.

We were sitting out on top of the Tower enjoying the first twinges of spring, with him shimmering in the sunlight and me trying to soak up some rays, when he asked me quietly, "Cadie, what is bothering you?"

Trying to brush off his concern, because I was unsure how to discuss this without starting a fight, which I was tired of doing, I nonchalantly said, "Nothing's bothering me, Ev. What could possibly be bothering me on this glorious day?"

He was having none of it though, replying, "Cadie, I don't mean just today. I mean this past week. No, the past three weeks. It just has gotten worse this week. Don't deny it, for you have been snapping at me for the silliest of things."

I sighed and sat up to face him, admitting, "Yeah, it was a bit much to be irritated at you for wanting to carry my books and opening doors for me."

"Do you still think me a chauvinist?"

He looked at me imploringly, earnestly attempting to try to understand, which broke my heart and made me confess, "Yes, I do, but that is not it."

"Then, what is it?"

I swallowed and then spit it out all in one ashamed and unintelligible rush.

"It's Tanya. It's Eliza. It's the fact that I – I can't be what you deserve or need. It's the fact that I don't understand what you see in me, and I am afraid that you are going to one day wake up and realize that. Well, not wake up exactly, but you get the drift. Or that you do realize it, and that is part of why you don't want to pursue something after graduation…"

I drifted off and looked away from him, just knowing that I had made a complete fool of myself.

This was confirmed when he started chuckling softly, which made me want to get out of there as fast as possible, so I started to stand up. His arm shot out then, and he pulled me down on top of him so that my head lay on his chest, whispering, "I'm sorry, Cadie. This just wasn't what I was expecting. Please, stay."

I nodded, biting my lip trying to keep from crying, but apparently I failed at that too, because a tear dripped down from my cheek and landed on his shirt that he had slightly unbuttoned.

He, of course, felt this and quickly sat up so he could examine my face, asking anxiously, "Are you crying?"

I turned away to erase the evidence, but he gently turned my face back towards him, gently tucking his finger under my chin to lift my face to his level, forcing me to look into his eyes, "Oh, _mo chridhe_, I wish I knew what to say to make this better…"

I sighed again, "You don't have to say anything, Evan."

"You're right," he admitted softly, "But I wish I could understand. What do Tanya and Eliza have to do with the rest of it?"

He would start there. However, as much as I knew that it would hurt to have my suspicions confirmed, I told him everything, for it at least didn't appear as if it would turn into a fight.

When I was done, I glanced at his face to see his reaction because he wasn't saying anything. He was biting his lip trying not to smile and his eyes were lit up in laughter. I couldn't help myself, and I slapped his chest, protesting, "It's not funny, Evan!"

This quickly sobered him up, and he held my hand to his chest, apologizing, "I know, Cadie, but you just are the strangest girl, sometimes."

I tried to jerk my hand away, muttering, "Thanks, that's _so _comforting."

He let go and let me readjust myself so that my arms were wrapped around my legs as I stared stonily at the receding snowline below.

Rubbing his hand through his hair, he began to articulate whatever he had tried to say by that comment, "Cadie, yes, I realize that Tanya is beautiful, and yes, it has crossed my mind that she is a little like Eliza in appearance. However, she is not like her in personality at all, which is why I would never look at her twice now. Moreover, I have gotten over Eliza, but that has only been because of _you_; and I'm not about to go from you to Tanya or to anyone else, like you were some stepping stone in my healing process. You are more knitted into my very soul than I thought a person could ever be."

Leaning back against the wall, he smiled, continuing, "And as for you not being as beautiful as them, I'll have you know that is so not true. In fact, you are more, in my opinion, and it's not because I'm biased or because of your 'inner beauty' – which, by the way, surpasses them as a nymph does a hag in your books."

He leaned forward, his eyes becoming darker, nearly black, as he earnestly declared, "Cadie, if you could only see how I see you…you would never think such thoughts again. Eliza was a classic beauty, I'll admit, but it was carefully cultivated. You don't have to do all that to take my breath away. Truly, my favorite moments have been watching you wake up with your hair in all its disarrayed glory. You look so relaxed and refreshed, and well, innocent."

He cupped my face then and our noses were nearly touching, saying, "I wouldn't change a thing about you, not one hair on your head. In fact, your hair is one of my favorite things about your physical self. … I guess, most people would say it is a chestnut dark brown, but it's not just one color. There are auburn, caramel, cinnamon, and golden-brown highlights that glint spectacularly in the sun. And then there's its texture, which is amazingly soft. And there is its liveliness. I have been mesmerized for hours by watching it move."

His right hand moved up to brush a loose strand back, continuing, with his voice getting softer as he spoke. "Then, there are your eyes… They too aren't just one color. They shift shades depending on your outfit or your mood. I suppose, you could call them jade on most occasions. Also your skin is like porcelain or ivory, and it flushes that most delicious pink color when you are embarrassed like now," he noted impishly, causing a fresh wave to bloom across my neck and cheeks.

He continued despite this, "And I love your chin. It's strong and shows your character so well, and I love your hands, the way they dance when you are drawing or sketching or trying to express yourself. I love your laugh. It so suits your name; it's that unique."

"As for your inner beauty, I love the fact that you see the worth in what most people would call the 'little people' like Jeremy and Dani. You care about them, and your loyalty to them both scares and challenges me. Eliza was involved with charity organizations. That is how I met her. But she always went home and returned to her little sheltered world of the elites. At the time, I saw this, but was so enamored with her, I dismissed it. Now, if I had to choose between the two, I would choose you. If I could, I would grow old with you, Cadence Rowan Darby. Shall I go on?"

He asked me this as if he expected me to answer him after such a speech. _As if_.

Even if I could have answered him, I wouldn't have because it would have been the next best thing. Instead, I did the best thing – I launched myself at him.

He caught me and returned my fervent kisses, most likely out of relief that my weird episode of insecurity had been satisfactorily dealt with.

"You, sir, are far too charming for my own good. Did you know that?" I finally said once we had ceased expressing our mutual affection.

His chest rumbled as he laughed, saying, "Well, I don't know. It seems to have done the trick."

"Mhmm…I suppose, it did," I admitted tiredly, exhausted from the emotional outpouring, but still happy that I had done so.

I expressed this sentiment by apologizing, "Evan, I'm sorry for not talking over this with you sooner…"

He kissed the top of my head as he continued to play with my hair, chiding teasingly, "Well, you just remember that for next time."

"Count on it," I agreed in between hiding yawns.

It did no good because he, of course, noticed, declaring, "Okay, Sleepy Beauty, it's time I take you home."

I mentally cursed my frail human body for its limitations and frantically searched for a stalling tactic. I came up with, "Evan, do you wanna know what I realized?"

He looked me squarely in the eye, recognizing what I was doing, but reluctantly deciding to play along anyways. He slowly replied, "Yes?"

I grinned, declaring, "I know you think that we are a couple based on the maxim 'opposites attract,' but I disagree. I think, we are 'two peas in a pod.'"

He raised one eyebrow, "Really?"

I nodded, "Yep," and then began to rattle off my reasons, "We are both highly overprotective of each other. And we are supremely stubborn and prideful; hence the slow progress of our relationship. And, apparently, we have jealousy tendencies."

"What two foolish creatures are we," he agreed with faux-solemnity.

Yet again, I couldn't help myself, but this time it was to wipe that smirk off his face.

We didn't leave for quite some time after that. It worked quite well as a delaying tactic, but not so well as a smirk-remover.

* * *

As she lay in my arms sleeping, I pondered again the insanity of her possibly thinking all the things that she had confessed to me today. If she only knew, how captivating I truly found her. It was difficult even now to pull myself away from her. But I must.

I would have confronted her about her strange behavior much sooner, but I had been distracted by Draven and my plans for how to deal with him.

I had a plan now. It was slightly flawed because I didn't know the nature of his extended abilities, but it was workable because with all his toying he had developed a pattern of behavior that made him predictable.

The first phase began when Tanya and her family left, supposedly to return home. However, they had not gone as far as that. We hoped that this returning to the status quo would give him a false sense of security.

It seemed that it had, because Edward had caught his scent when he was out hunting two days ago, and it was fresh.

Phase two was about to begin.

* * *

**AN: **So confession time. I have been saying that _mo chridhe_ means 'my heart' in French, but thanks to luci-guinassi, I now realize that my notes are wrong. It's not French. It's Gaelic. It somehow got mixed up in my notes as French, go figure. Sorry for the mix-up. But anyways, in Gaelic it does mean 'my heart'.

(Hint. Hint. This is why reviews are important : D )

So...How did I do? This chapter in general, or more specifically, how has my portrayal of Tanya and Co. been?

I'll be updating soon. Promise.


	43. Chapter 42 Bait, Set, Trap

Chapter 42 – Bait, Set, Trap

A few days before spring break…

I had gotten up at my usual time (thirty minutes after my first alarm went off), gotten ready in my usual manner (fought the bitter fight with my hair and lost), acknowledged Ian's announcement that he was going to be in his workshop with a grunt, responded to Evan's text that Bella was nearby and he was "leaving" for school with a monosyllabic "k," and made my way down to the kitchen for my elixir of life (no explanation necessary, because this is me we're talking about), when I experienced yet _another_ home invasion.

Hanging from the cabinet knob, right next to my holy grail (thermos) was an up-chuck reflex trigger of a poster. It was more of a collage really. A collage of black and white and puddles and smears of red. There were newspaper clippings with headlines entitled: **Girl Found Dead, Brutally Murdered**; **Sweet Sixteen Victim No. 7?**; **Teresa Payne's Funeral, Closed Casket, Parents Devastated**, and so forth. And then there were the pictures. Pictures of dead girls and their mutilated bodies. I didn't look too closely at those. Didn't want to. But what my eyes could not avoid was the message written in the blank center –

_**Time to make my collection complete.**_

_Le s__ans cervelle, rongeur descendant, sureau malodorant, foutrement bâtard!_

Needless to say, I didn't feel the slightest bit guilty for having some coffee with my whiskey that morning.

* * *

Now that Evan had successfully dealt with my distraction, I had to face the music. Draven was coming for me as stated by his most recent note. And the Cullens were going to risk themselves to protect me.

Evan swore to me that he had a plan though.

Normally, such a statement would have given me comfort. However, this plan of his slightly depended on my acting ability, which I wasn't too confident in.

Since it was spring break and it was forecasted to be mostly sunny the second half of it, the Cullens had asked Ian if I could accompany them on one of their "camping trips." The first half of the week, I spent preparing for this "adventure," and all the while pretending that I looked forward to nothing else. I also had to convince Ian to take a holiday and go spend it with Sukey so that he would be out of harm's way. (This wasn't all that hard to do.) Zach and his father were visiting Jessie, so they would be out of town as well. I think, Evan and his gift had something to do with that, but I wasn't going to complain.

Today was Wednesday, and Evan's elaborate trap was to be set within the hour.

We were in the Studio talking about the most trivial of things to keep up the charade, while we waited for Edward and Bella to show up, which they finally did much to the relief of my nerves.

"Hey, Edward, Bella, what's up?" Evan nonchalantly greeted.

"Not much," Edward casually replied.

"Nessie just wanted us to give Cadie something," Bella added as she handed me her jacket, beginning to strip.

Edward and Evan turned away to give us some privacy as Bella and I switched clothes. Edward whispered to Evan, loud enough that I could hear though, saying, "Kate called. They said that she and Garrett would meet you two halfway there."

Tucking my hair into the baseball cap that Bella had been wearing, I asked with as much shock as I could muster, "What? Why is Kate meeting us halfway there? … Are we even going camping, Evan?"

Evan sighed as if he was now preparing to confess something that he had been avoiding, "Cadie, we're not going anywhere with the family. You and I are going to hide out with Eleazar's coven in Saskatchewan until whoever this is, is dealt with."

I resisted the urge to snort at his added touch of switching the leadership to that of the elder male instead of the female. Evan was definitely playing on this Draven's flawed thinking wherever he could.

"Lovely," was my muttered response, and then more loudly I queried, "When are we leaving?"

"In about an hour," Evan answered, but then at a more normal volume, he said, "When is Carlisle getting off work?"

"In about an hour, and we'll leave not long after that," Edward replied.

"You are going to love it, Cadie," Bella enthused. She was even worse than I was when it came to deception. But then, again, Brac wasn't supposed to believe this charade entirely.

"We'll be seeing you in a few then," Edward said in farewell.

This was my cue. But I couldn't say anything. I just looked at Evan trying to memorize every nuance of his features. I wanted to give him a proper goodbye. I wanted to tell him to be safe, to not do anything reckless, to come back. I wanted to say I love you.

He looked at me with the same intensity before turning to Edward to say, "Yeah, see you, Edward. Take care." _Of Cadie_ was the unspoken half of that command.

Edward nodded, and then gently taking my hand, he led me to his silver Volvo.

This is where Evan's great plan got complicated. I was to go with Edward to the house, where Jacob would take me to a remote location up the mountain. Nessie was waiting there already as no one wanted her to be anywhere near the danger. Jacob's scent was supposed to mask mine. Apparently, this had worked before with Bella, so I wasn't going to question it, even if it was a little awkward to have him carry me the whole way there.

Meanwhile, Bella, acting as me, would get in Evan's truck, and they would drive towards Saskatchewan for quite some ways before stopping to ditch his truck. Then they would loop back, hiking to where Emmett's Jeep was already waiting, giving Bella a chance to rub my scent as many places as possible. Once they had returned, they would head into Jacob's guest house, where they had been blatantly stockpiling all of my favorite foods.

Bella and he would stay in there awhile before Evan would come out announcing that he was going hunting, which he desperately needed to do as he had not gone in such a long while, fearing to let me out of his sight. Jasper and Alice were to wave in acknowledgment, promising to look after me, but would get distracted and would go inside, giving Brac his moment.

They were all confident that he would take the bait, and their reasoning was sound.

Tomorrow was the anniversary of his lover's death.

And the dramatic psycho would want all day to do his "masterpiece."

So he was coming for me tonight.

* * *

As much as Cadie doubted her acting ability, she was doing quite decent. I just wish that it wasn't necessary. Well, I wish that none of it was necessary, but this charade that we were doing seemed so pointless. I wanted to tell her that it was going to be all right. I wanted to tell her that I loved her. I wanted to kiss her goodbye.

But I couldn't.

I couldn't because I didn't know how close this bastard could get, and I wanted him to be confused at least marginally, so that Cadie could slip past him and get somewhere safe.

So I went through the motions anyways. I almost broke when she gave me that look as if she thought her world was coming to end. Her lip was trembling, but she was so absorbed in examining my features she didn't even perform her usual little nervous habit.

Instead of trying to make her smile one more time, I turned to Edward and gave him his exiting cue. And then I watched her walk out the door.

How Edward trusted me with Bella even as I used her as bait was beyond me, but I guess it helped that she was made of more indestructible material than she had once been. At first, he hadn't been so agreeable, but as Bella was more than willing and Nessie also implored him to, he gave in. I would have asked Alice to do this for me, but I doubted that Cadie could pass for the little short-haired pixie.

"She'll be alright, you know," Bella quietly reassured, confident in Edward and Jacob to do their part.

"I know," I replied, and then turning to her, "You ready?"

She nodded and smiled her anticipation. Emmett was the most vocal about getting this guy, but Bella, I felt, in her quiet way wanted this monster nearly as much as I did. No one threatened her family or put her daughter in danger and got away with it.

We left not long after that and drove west for about ninety minutes before exiting at a little used minor highway that eventually became like a country lane. Then we headed northeast to wear Emmett's Jeep was already parked. All the while, I focused on my plan looking for anything that I might be able to change to our advantage.

I could think of nothing though. We had acted as if our guard was down after Tanya and her family had left since he had not done anything in weeks, and sure enough he had pounced by invading Cadie's home right after Ian had holed himself up in his workshop and I had "left" for school. Draven continuously demonstrated that he was confident in his skill in evasion and contemptuous of our ineptitude. Both of which I grugdingly have to admit have some basis to them. _Le__ foutrement veinard bâtard!_

However, this confidence and his repeated demonstrations of having a flair for the dramatic were going to be his undoing.

He would take the bait even if he realized that it was intended to be a trap.

Even if he did retreat and manage to get passed those at the house, Tanya, Kate, Carmen, Eleazar, and Garrett were all strategically placed on routes that he had used previously after leaving his little "gifts."

This would work. It had to work.

* * *

The Great Hiding Place was located half-way up the mountain southeast of the house. The trail was moderately easy, allowing for Jacob to carry me with no difficulty, and ended at the mouth of a cave.

Nessie greeted us as soon as we arrived, exclaiming, "Oh good, you're here! It's kind of creepy being here all on my own."

I could see why she would say that. The wind whistles through some second opening farther back. It was eery.

"Have you heard anything that shouldn't be here?" Jacob asked as he quickly scanned the area.

She shook her head, "No, and the animals don't even sense anything either. A couple of squirrels were … um…you know…" She trailed off, blushing faintly in embarrassment.

"Sure, sure, I know," Jacob grinned, amused at her discomfort and relieved that this spot was the safe haven that they all hoped it would be.

I grinned too, but began to feel the discomfort of the damp chilliness of the cave's air. I was no longer experiencing the benefits of Jake's higher than normal temperature.

He noticed and shrugged off his jacket. Handing it to me, he said, "Here, take this. I would build a fire, but it's too risky. It might call unwanted attention."

I nodded my understanding and put it on. It swallowed me up, causing Nessie to giggle and remark, "Oh dear, don't you look ridiculous."

I grimaced at her, sarcastically replying, "Thanks."

She just grinned back, "My pleasure," and then more superciliously, she said, "Step right this way, ma'am, to your luxurious home-away-from-home vacation accommodations."

I followed her further back into the cave to see that she had set up a little living room/bedroom area created from various scrounged up items. There were two lounge chairs book-ending a "couch" that was made up of sofa cushions and a sleeping bag, and all three were centered around a plastic toddler's table that had a deck of cards on top and what looked to be pre-made dinners underneath it. Two other sleeping bags were set up off to the left near the cave wall. It was very thoughtful of her and whoever had helped her to go through all this trouble, but I didn't think that it was possible for me to sleep at all tonight.

I didn't say this however, but as she looked at me expectantly to comment, I obliged with a grateful smile and the simple compliment of "Charming."

This seemed to be good enough for her because she nodded in acknowledgment and said, "Since it will be awhile before Evan and Mother even get back yet, do you wanna play Egyptian Rat Screw or Gin-Rummy?"

I shrugged, not really caring, but accepting the fact that I would need something trivial like this to keep my mind occupied.

We played for a couple of hours, with me losing more often than I normally would have, until the sun began going down. This seemed to be the cue for making me eat dinner, even though I was not all that hungry. There was vegetable soup in a couple of thermoses, hot tea in the others, and apples on the side.

I managed half my thermos of soup and a few bites of an apple before I gave it up as a lost cause and just drank the tea. I was at first very grateful that I did not have to see Esme's disappointed and concerned face over my poor appetite, but then I remembered the reason for why she wasn't here in the first place, making me fervently wish that she, Evan, and the rest of the family were there to scold and henpeck me to their heart's desire.

It seemed that once dinner was over no one had anything to distract themselves. Nessie had been chattering away all afternoon and throughout the dinner, but even she seemed to lose the desire or energy to do anything other than to watch the sky dim. Jacob was exceedingly restless. Every few seconds he was switching where his legs were crossed at his ankles as he lounged in one of the chairs, fiddling with his Swiss Army pocketknife, and constantly reacting to whatever little sound that he heard. And he could hear a lot.

When he would react to something very strongly (shoulders tensing and leaning forward as if he was about to spring into action), I would look to Nessie to gauge her reaction as she had slightly keener senses than him, which she had boasted to no end on quite a few occasions. She, however, never got too worried. In fact, a few times she had this little smile as if she thought his behavior was endearing.

I called her on it, finally, more out of needing something to break the edgy silence than anything else, asking her, "Okay, what is so amusing, Nessie?"

She smiled, her perfect white carnivorous teeth iridescent in the moonlight, and shrugged cavalierly explaining, "Oh, Jake just wishes that he was in on the action. He thought that Esme or Rosalie would have been better suited for guard duty."

Puzzled, I asked, "But that would have defeated the purpose of masking my scent, right? If one of them had carried me here?"

She nodded satisfactorily, saying, "That's what I said."

Jake snorted and muttered something unintelligible under his breath, but Nessie seemed to have comprehended it because she snapped back at him, "Jacob Black! You overestimate your abilities. You are not with your pack. A single wolf, no matter how great he is, lacks the tactical advantages he/she has when with their pack."

"I _know_ that, Nessie. It doesn't mean I have to like it," he retorted irritably before returning to his knife-fiddling and ankle-crossing-re-crossing routine.

Nessie sighed and settled back as well, visibly relieved that she had gotten her point across.

Personally, I think that it would not have been a problem for him to be down there. He was so integrated into the Cullen family that they behaved like a pack themselves, especially with Edward's ability. The real problems with his being down there would have been his affect on Alice and the fact that he would have been distracted by his worry about Nessie. As much as he might have wanted to be where the more immediate danger was, he wanted to be here more.

I knew the same could be said for Evan, and I feared that his concern for me would put him in danger. More than that, however, I feared that his emotional stake in this would cause him to be reckless.

In situations like these, I've read of the heroines complaining that the waiting is the worse than actually knowing the outcome. I don't know if I can say the same. I could wait forever if it meant that I wouldn't have to know that my world was collapsing around me.

And waiting forever seemed to be what I was doing.

As these thoughts consumed my consciousness, I stared out the cave entrance. Nothing changed within its borders. Not even one shooting star passed through to wish upon.

Its static panorama would be forever imprinted on my mind.

* * *

I had not gone far before I caught the scent of a moose north of the house close to where Carmen was stationed. I went after it confident that the rest could handle the situation in my absence.

I left with Alice and Jasper "window washing" the back half of the house. They were truly performing an elaborate charade within a charade, by pretending to have a water war with the hoses while they affected to clean the already pristine glass. Esme and Carlisle were more seriously puttering about in the greenhouse clearing. Rosalie and Emmett were tinkering in the garage with music blaring loud enough to give the impression that they could not hear anything that was going on in the guesthouse. Edward was pretending to be absorbed in his music, but even from the corner of his eye he had a clear view of the entire backyard clearing. All were within Bella's shouting range and could come at her call if Draven showed up.

The moose was not overly appetizing, but it was sufficient for my needs. Apparently, it had been a decent enough winter that finding nutrients for itself had not been a problem. When I finished with it, I pounced upon the pair of plump raccoons that had the misfortune of wandering across my path as I did a lackadaisical loop back towards the house.

I had just caught the scent of a nearby lynx when I heard a loud crash come from the house and Edward's and Emmett's simultaneous roar. I did a one-eighty and raced back towards the house leaping over fallen logs and streams and jumping from boulder to boulder in my haste to join the fray.

He was here. The madness would finally end.

* * *

**AN: **French to English translation of _Le s__ans cervelle, rongeur descendant, sureau malodorant, foutrement bâtard = The empty-headed, rodent descendant, elderberry smelling, bloody bastard (God bless, Monty) & __Le__ foutrement veinard bâtard! = the bloody lucky bastard _

For all of you who are extremely frustrated at how slow this is going, you are welcome to express your "finally's" I won't begrudge them. Just hit the little green worded button below... : )


	44. Chapter 43 The End?

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Chapter 43 – The End…?

I could hear them struggling to catch him long before I even reached the clearing.

Rosalie's angry hissing and Emmett's frustrated grunting and cursing were not very encouraging to say the least.

And then Jasper's desperately shouted orders of "Grab him, Bella! No, no! Head him off! Edward, head him off! Block him, Alice!" were abruptly cut off with a loud crack as I suppose he and someone else smacked into each other as they lunged to get the "Bastard."

I assume it was Emmett, as it was he who shouted that epithet over the echoes of the collision and the taunting maniacal laughter of the elusive prey.

His laughter grated on the nerves, but it spurred me on all the harder; for it indicated that he was headed towards the back of the house if he got passed them all.

I broke through the dense foliage to see Carlisle came up from the south side of the guesthouse; thus, effectively blocking Draven's escape route in that direction, forcing the bastard to head my way.

As soon as he saw me, however, he changed directions and headed for the gap between Carlisle and I, eluding both of our reaches by a hair's breadth. Edward was hot on his heels as well, not even taking the time to offer any explanation for what had happened or how Draven had gotten past seven vampires.

Draven's current trajectory was taking him towards Garrett and Kate. I could only hope that our luck would take a turn for the better and he would stay on this course.

* * *

I must have fallen into a doze because my head snapped up like it does when I'm nodding off in class.

Searching for whatever had startled me awake, I noticed both Jacob and Nessie were extraordinarily tense. Jacob was standing near the entrance of the cave, and Nessie was sitting straight up on her sleeping bag looking as if she too had been rudely awakened.

"What is it?" I whispered anxiously.

Jacob didn't respond, but Nessie eventually replied, "I don't know. There was a noise that could have been like that of boulders colliding, but it was too faint to make out clearly. I just don't know."

"The animals are restless off that way," Jacob pointed northeast of us towards the foothills below. "Could be anything though," he stated in a poor attempt at reassurance. As comforting as he tried to be, his and Nessie's body language did not match his words.

Grimacing, I muttered, "Sure, sure," and settled back to wait in even more nerve-racking silence.

* * *

We were gathered at the spot where our quarry's trail went cold. Again.

Somehow we had lost him. Again.

"How the hell did we lose him?" I asked out of frustration to no one in particular.

Edward answered however, "He seems to have a phenomenal sense of self-preservation."

"Yeah, he didn't even make it all the way into the guesthouse before he realized it was a trap," Alice contributed, and Jasper confirmed with a nod.

"He was so fast," Esme commented incredulously. "I've never seen anyone move that fast…"

Garrett grunted in irritation, prompting Kate to rub his arm soothingly, saying, "Don't worry, baby. He even outran Edward."

He huffed at this, seeming mollified.

Thankfully, Edward did not respond to this. As it was, I nearly snapped at them for caring about so trivial a detail as to who was faster. However, Bella's whispered remark drew me up short.

"I'm sorry, Evan," Bella apologized.

"What for?" I blurted, as I whipped my head around to look at her over Edward's shoulder. She was gnawing on her lip in a fashion reminiscent of Cadie that it made my heart ache.

She explained regretfully, "For not being quick enough to stop him. It would have been the perfect opportunity to do so while he was awkwardly positioned in the back window."

I shrugged, "Your job was more to alert us of his presence than anything else, which you did a fine job of, judging by everyone's reaction." I was referring of course to Carlisle and Esme's very broken and shattered back glass wall, which Edward, Jasper, and Alice had crashed through upon Bella's shout.

"Where could he have gone from here?" Garret asked, looking around at the dense forest and sheer cliffs that we were standing at the bottom of.

I had been racking my brain for that very answer for the past few minutes, and I still had not been able to come up with one.

Esme spoke up softly then, looking extremely anxious, "I don't know how he could have done it, Evan. But I would assume he came this way for a reason, and the only one I can think of is that there is either a pass through the mountains or …"

"An entrance to the cave system here somewhere," I finished for her, horrified at what that could mean.

It dawned on everyone else too.

"I'll call Jake and let him know," Edward immediately declared.

"And I'll call Rosalie, to have her and Emmett block off the southwest exit," Carlisle added. Those two had stayed behind in case he doubled back.

"Call Eleazar and Carmen. Have them join those two," I ordered Kate, and then turning to Esme, I said, "Call Tanya, and have her meet you and Carlisle at the northeast exit."

They all nodded, but I barely noticed because I was gazing fixedly at Alice, imploring her to give me some hope.

She shook her head, "I can't sense him; you know I can't."

"What about Cadie? You sensed her with the bridge."

"She's with Jake," she stated simply.

Edward interrupted, anxiously stating, "He's not picking up."

Jasper placed his hand on my shoulder trying to calm me down, to reassure, suggesting logically, "It could be that they are not getting any reception. They are in a cave, after all."

I shrugged off his hand. I just couldn't take it anymore. We were just too close to where they were, and the way this night was going, he would find them – her – and I wouldn't be able to get there in time.

So I took off, leaving everyone else to the pointless search.

* * *

Jacob was outside checking to see if he could get any reception. I didn't think it would do any good, but it did give him something to do. His fidgeting was going to drive me up the who-knows-what encrusted wall.

I was examining said feature of my surroundings when I heard a noise. Not the kind of noise that Nessie and Jake had been reacting to all night. No, those were outside noises.

This one was coming from the back of the cave.

Nessie who was standing near the entrance of the cave let out a hiss indicating that she had heard it too. She probably saw it too.

And it was an It.

The thing that had been haunting my nightmares and imposing its vileness into my life was standing there not forty meters away from me.

This apparition appeared to be in its mid-twenties. I could see how it could have gotten so close to those women. For not only was it stylishly dressed, but also it had the appearance of a troubled and sensitive youth, with its wavy golden hair and vulnerable looking mouth, which I noticed as it was formed in a perfect "o." Its horrible burgundy eyes were wide in amazement, further suggesting that it appeared to be genuinely surprised to be seeing me as well.

But then its facial expression turned from incredulousness to malicious satisfaction and glee, saying softly in a rather high tenor voice, "Hello, Cadence. We finally meet."

I swallowed, rooted to the spot, knowing that I could never out run it and not wanting to even try, as that would leave Nessie alone with it.

He took a step towards me, his whole being intent on me.

He took another a step, and another, licking his lips and sniffing the air, dramatically. He began a low running commentary, saying in phrase-step pattern, "Mmm …" – step – "…so mouthwatering …" – step – "… and appealing…" – step.

He was so focused on me that he didn't even see Jacob.

I didn't even see Jake's arrival. He was just a big brown blur, and then Nessie was grabbing me and dragging me out of the way.

It was a good thing too, because in their mad "scuffling" they rolled right where I had been standing.

I have never been so petrified in my life. Not even when I was six years old and watched Oscar, my English bulldog, get run over by an SUV, was I so frozen in horror. I mean, Jake is a big guy and as a wolf he is positively ferocious, but he was still very breakable – and well, Draven Brac was not.

Jake got in a good bite or two, before Brac was able to get a hold of him and throw him up against the wall. He hit it so hard that he didn't get up. He just laid there.

Nessie whimpered and begged desperately as she too looked on in horror, "Get up, Jake…please, get up…"

"Get up, Jake. Pleeease, get up!" It mimicked in an even higher pitched voice.

She hissed back at him preparing herself to spring in defense of her two helpless friends. I wanted to tell her not to. I wanted her to run. I couldn't bear it to see her thrown up against the wall like Jacob. I didn't want to see her touched by this foul monster that so violently ended the lives of over a half a dozen girls.

So I closed my eyes.

CRACK!

I opened my eyes to see Evan and Draven grappling with each other, tumbling end over end –

They tumbled right on over the edge of the cliff ledge that extended just a few meters from the cave mouth and disappeared.

* * *

He was there. Closing in on Cadie and Nessie. At times like these, I hate being right.

I launched myself at him. So focused on his prey, he didn't even see me.

The advantage was short-lived however, as he was quick. He managed to break my hold on him long enough to twist around and get leverage to flip me over.

I didn't let go, so we grappled at each other, flipping end over end out of the cave, away from Cadie, and over the ledge.

I felt the trees as we bashed against them. I felt the ferns, shrubs, and rocks that we crushed as we landed on them. I felt the impact of his nails against my flesh as he took a swipe at me. These were all insignificant concerns however. Feelings and easily destructible objects did not matter. Only instinct and the rendering asunder of this Thing mattered.

So I held on.

I held on, and I brought the full force of my 'talent' down upon him. I did not have the time or the energy to use finesse, to 'lean' upon the decision centers of his psyche to bend him to my will. Thus, I assaulted, battered, and blasted him with everything I had.

Unfortunately, he was bent upon killing me with every fiber of his being. And there was nothing I could do to change his mind.

Fortunately, he was bent upon killing me with every fiber of his being. And since his sole desire at the moment was to kill me, he was overcome with rage and unable to process and defend against coercive 'suggestions' such as not gripping as hard as he could have or overreaching. Thus, I was able to even out the playing field - we were now both slippery little suckers. Pardon the pun.

At one point though, I managed to bite off half his left hand when he used it to shove my face away from his neck. At another, I managed to crush his right scapula. When he managed to kick me away from him, I grabbed his left calf and right heel, breaking off a large chunk of one and crushing the other.

Draven Brac was good at running and preying on those much weaker than himself, but within close quarters of his equals, he failed to astound.

Especially, when we landed at the feet of two terrified-for-their-child parents and a very angry aunt and uncle.

Dismemberment was a quick and efficient process. Bella and I shared the pleasure of severing the connection between his head and torso. Which we saved for last, giving us the satisfaction of seeing his red eyes drain to black as they bugged out in pain and horror.

The fragrance of his funeral pyre was like that of sweet incense wafting up to the god of war after a glorious victory.

_Fág an bealach!_

* * *

_Breathe_, I told myself. _He's okay. The impact wouldn't kill him. He's practically indestructible_.

I didn't exactly believe myself, however. It was kind of hard to when I knew that he was down there somewhere on his own with a killer.

I spared a glance towards Jake to see if he was okay and saw Nessie leaning over him and checking his wounds.

She looked up and said relieved, "He's going to be okay. A few cracked ribs and a knock on the skull. Nothing Carlisle and his own regenerative abilities can't handle."

I nodded, equally relieved that this was the case and slightly amazed. I hadn't seen this bit of his talent in action before. I fervently wished to never have the occasion for it again.

"Can you hand me the first aid kit?" she asked interrupting me from my anxiety-filled thoughts.

"They are under the table, Cadie," she gently prodded when I didn't move right away.

I hastily went over and got it for her, and for the next twenty minutes or so, I spent playing nurse's aid as she requested various items. I think, Jake was all right after ten minutes of her ministrations. If Brac had come back, he would have been ready to spring into action. However, judging by his wolfish wink at me when Nessie wasn't looking, he seemed to be enjoying her fussing. I would have given him away just to see her reaction to this, but as he just risked his life for mine and Nessie's, I felt that I owed him one.

When she was done, I was finally left to continue my vigil. I was so numb from all the previous waiting and the sudden adrenaline rush of the past hour, that I am not sure how I stood there for as long as I did. If I had stood there any longer I would have most assuredly turned into a replica of Lot's wife.

However, that was not my destiny, because he, (Evan that is), finally came back. He was walking on two feet and had two arms and a head. No pieces were missing of his personage, except his shirt.

A perk of all this, I suppose, was that I at last got to see Evan shirtless – and a glorious sight he was. (He would have been that anyways, for he was alive.)

I nearly lost it then. In fact, my knees buckled, and I nearly collapsed to the ground. Evan was there, of course, to catch me though. Later, I kind of felt sorry for Nessie and Jacob for having to witness our mushiness. Jake probably at the time made some noise of protest, but I didn't register it. I was too busy trying to remember to breathe and convince myself that Evan was really alright. My hands were fluttering all over him, touching his arms, his face, hair, ears, chest, whatever. He seemed to be having the same experience as his chest didn't begin moving normally until I placed my hand right where his heart should have been beating.

"You are alright?" I eventually managed to croak out.

He nodded. His eyes never leaving my face, doing a constant scan as if he was imprinting my features into his very soul. He was also rubbing my back, arms, and the side of my face in a continual pattern of light caresses with his right hand, even as his left hand supported me.

"Everyone else?"

He nodded again, and then further elaborated, "Jasper and Alice are burning what remains of his body, and Edward and Bella are here to check on Nessie and Jake while collecting whatever pieces Jake might have removed."

I spared a quick glance around. I hadn't thought that I was that absorbed in our own little world that I hadn't noticed their entrance. I returned my gaze back to him upon not seeing them, not wanting to miss another millisecond of my time with him.

He chuckled at this, explaining softly, "They're probably outside, waiting so that we could have a moment."

"Oh."

He pulled me closer to him so that my head was tucked under his chin, while resting on his shoulder, asking hesitantly, "Are you alright?"

I stroked his back reassuringly, nodding, and whispered, "Nary a scratch. Jake got the full brunt of it. The only thing wrong with me is maybe sprouting my first premature gray hairs."

He huffed in amusement, before tilting my head back and turning it this way and that as if he was searching for the little signs of wisdom. When he was done with this little experiment, he whispered, "Nary a one."

At least, that is what I think he said. I was too busy watching his lips form these words. His sweet breath had wafted across my face. (We were that close now.) His proximity and scent made my breath quicken.

He seemed to have noticed as they twitched in a slight smirk before they descended upon my already parted ones.

The kiss was a long drawn out one as we poured our pent up emotions into each other. His right hand went from my chin up into my hair as we fused our faces together. I had slid both of my hands into his hair to hold him in place. His curls felt silky smooth. His chest was smooth, solid, and very durable, attesting to the fact that he truly was alive. And his lips were cool as they moved across my own in expert fashion.

Like I said, later I would feel sorry for Nessie and Jake. However, that was later. This was now, and now was pure bliss.

* * *

**AN: **Gaelic to English translation: Fág an bealach! = Clear the Way! It is an Irish Gaelic battle cry still used by the Fighting 69th of New York's Army National Guard as well as the Royal Irish Regiment in the British Army.

Anywho, how did I do?


	45. Chapter 44 Restoring Equilibrium

Chapter 44 – Restoring Equilibrium

Esme and Carlisle soon joined us as well. Carlisle cleared Jacob to be healed enough to be moved. Edward called Emmett and Garrett to help with that task before he went to rejoin Jasper and Alice, and Bella began helping Esme and Nessie pack up the creature comforts.

When all of this was done, we headed out in troupe. Evan was going to carry me, but after the long hours of sitting, it felt good to be able to exert myself. Once we reached the clearing, they carried Jake into the guest house, and I was escorted into the main one.

Noticing the glass everywhere, I stopped and looked to Evan, asking, "What happened here?"

He chuckled and picked me up so that I wouldn't step on any shards, before explaining, "Bella let out such an impressive yell that Edward didn't feel the need to use the customary exit route such as the door and just plowed through."

Esme tsked softly over the mess, "It looks like he wasn't the only one."

Even though we were now beyond the danger zone, Evan didn't put me down. He carried me all the way up to his room and placed me carefully on his ivory bean bag couch. He started to turn to his closet to get a shirt I think, but I made a mew of protest and patted the space next to me, so instead he turned on the lamp and lay down next to me.

"Is it really over?" I asked quietly looking at the ceiling.

He reached over and gently swept a lock of hair away from my face, answering just as quietly, "Yes, it is, _mo chridhe_."

I turned to him and smiled my relief. Then my eyes began to wander over him trying to see if he had any new scars. He had quite a few nasty ones. Not as many of them as I had gathered that Jasper had from what I had seen of just his arms, but there was still more than I was comfortable with.

There was one right on his right collar bone that looked as if one of those monsters had gotten a good hold. I wouldn't have been surprised if he told me that it had managed to tear it off but had not managed to finish the job and burn him. Not wanting to consider this possibility I moved on to another one that was just below his left pectoral near his heart, tracing it lightly with my finger. We shuddered simultaneously, but I don't think it was for the same reason, because when I looked up to his eyes they were slightly closed in – well – contentment would be an understatement.

"Are there any new ones?" I asked curiously, using my new found power by moving my hand to the scar that was on his left side.

He shook his head and murmured, "He got in a few good swipes, but nails don't have venom in them like teeth do."

"Can I see the ones on your back?" I had gotten a glimpse of them when he was headed towards his closet, but the light had been too dim to see them in detail.

He grabbed my hand to still its movement and sat up a little, saying, "No, that would be dangerous."

"For your sanity?" I teased.

He smiled indulgently, correcting, "No, for you. I might not be able to control myself."

I knew I should stop trying to test his boundaries, but we were alive and I wanted to embrace that fact in anyway I could, so I asked, "What would you do if you did slip a little?"

He quirked an eyebrow, "You want a demonstration?"

I nodded, biting my lip, a little amazed that I was doing this.

His golden eyes darkened at that action and focused on the perpetrator, causing my breath to catch.

Then he pounced.

He grabbed my other hand and raised my arms above my head and held them there, and then he kissed me deeply and intensely. Pulling back he trailed his cool lips along my jaw line… to my left ear… to my closed left eyelid… to my nose… and then to my right eyelid to do the reverse of the previous pattern. He then unzipped my jacket a little so that my throat was exposed, allowing him access. He ended all this on a lingering kiss, and then let go of my arms.

I sat up slowly and scooted back, gasping for breath and trying to cool myself down.

He smirked at my reaction, commenting wryly, "Not so nice to be on the receiving end, is it?"

I pushed my hair out of my face and threw it over my shoulder, which did no good because I then shook my head in denial, "No, it was _very_ nice, but …um…you are right. It's probably not the most prudent course of action when it comes to my long-term health."

He laughed at that, and then he got up and got a blanket to wrap around me. Once I was bundled up to his satisfaction, he pulled me against him so that we were snuggled quite comfortably on his luxurious suede sofa.

Despite being so wonderfully aroused from his attentions just a moment ago, my long night was beginning to catch up with me, and I started to drift off to sleep.

Just before I did, I murmured, "Jake makes a pretty wolf."

He chuckled, remarking dryly, "I will _not _be passing that compliment on to him."

"You don't think he would appreciate it?"

"No, the adjective 'handsome' maybe, or 'gorgeous,' but not 'pretty,'" he asserted, still laughing.

"Hmm…" was all I got out. The last thing I remembered before I lost consciousness was his muffled laughter that caused his chest to rumble in a strangely comforting fashion.

* * *

I spent the next three days with the Cullens. This was to support the ruse that I was camping with them until Sunday. Thursday afternoon, when I woke up it was raining, and Evan offered to make me pancakes. It was very Jack Johnson of him, until I requested blueberry instead of banana.

Most of that day the men with the bruised egos wanted to discuss how it was possible that one rogue vampire, who was unimaginative in his thinking as he was, could have eluded them so much the day before. It was entertaining in that they took so much offense at it, but after awhile it ceased to be that as they forced me to relive it over and over.

Personally, I think, he had a major glitch in his brain chemistry that was worse than whatever Bella and I have, which partly contributed to his twisted mentality. But I didn't see how it mattered. He's dead now. Right?

I could sense that Nessie and Bella were of the same opinion as me, so we spent most of our time with recuperating Jake in the guesthouse. Since he was still in wolf form, we escaped the sarcastic comments about the incompetence of the 'bloodsuckers' to hunt their own that I'm sure he was dying to make. At one point, we entertained ourselves by playing with his hair filling it with bows and ribbons. When Nessie declared that all of Alice's _and _Esme's ribbons had been used, I showed him my sketches.

His lip curl was quite ferocious.

This was how I spent my days at the Cullens post-Bloody Bastard. They were filled with laughter as I hung out with Nessie, Jake, and the rest of the family. But at night, I needed it to be just me and Evan.

And not because we needed the kind of "alone time" that Emmett so frequently hinted at with his horrible innuendos.

No, it was because even though Draven was no longer among the living (or the undead), he still existed for me in my nightmares. It was the same reoccurring dream that I had of Nessie, but with a few twists thrown in. I sincerely curse the day that I ever consented to watch horror films with Ashley and Eddie…

_I am wandering the woods alone admiring the sunless spring weather of the Laurentian Mountains, seemingly content, when I come across the meadow of wildflowers and snow. But, as soon as my Knowing Dream-self recognizes where I am at, it gets that terrible gut feeling of oh-shit…_

_And of course, my eyes light upon the ghastly presence of blood. _

_But not only blood, but there are tufts of fur too._

_And as in most of my dreams, I mysteriously just _know_ the source of the blood and hair, but even though I know whose it is and I grieve for him, I do not yet panic. It's too soon in the dream for that. The panic always comes later._

_Anyways, I drift along following the trail. There is no longer any inner conflict about my actions. I am resigned to the fact that I must see this to the end._

_However, the trail does not lead me to the graveyard tree. Instead, I end up at a cave, not unlike the one that I had spent hours upon hours in waiting for the end, and I see a body. _

_It is Jake, in his wolfish form._

_Nessie suddenly and inexplicably appears and is silently urging me to get the medical kit. I reach down to do as I'm bid… and the box turns into a pale arm. And not just any arm, but a Cullen's. (How I know it be one of theirs and not the monster's, I do not know. I of course just do.) _

_I drop it upon recognition. I am now horrified. I am now panicking. I am now distressed beyond measure. I look around and notice that the front entrance of the cave is littered with little white pieces of marble stone. _

_Some of them even resemble body parts. There are fingers under the table by the thermoses…and ribs scattered at the foot of Jake's chair…and part of a jawbone…a femur…_

_My throat becomes clogged and my vision blurs around the edges as if I'm not getting enough oxygen. I take a step to flee, and I kick something. I look down and pick up the offending object only to regret the action immediately. For the round glassy object had gold and tawny-colored flecks radiating out of a dark center, in an oh-so-familiar way… _

_In the palm of my hand, I hold Evan's eye. _

_I look out the mouth of the cave to throw it from me as far as I can, because I refuse to accept what that would mean._

Evan was **not** dead. He's not, not, not, not dead. _I chant to myself_.

_The view out of the mouth of the cave at first is like the static image of Wednesday night. Dark trees that do not sway in the wind. Stars that do not twinkle. No meteorites. Nothing. It is the straw that breaks the camel's back. I cannot bear being in that cave another minute. I gear myself up to run as far away and as fast as I can, when – _

_He appears._

_He's there in his silk dress pants and button down shirt that I can see through his partially open long dark wool coat. His head is cocked to the side as he examines me, and then he laughs. _

_And laughs._

_And laughs._

_It is a high-pitched, maniacal expression of glee and madness. I want to scream just to drown it out. I go to do so, which is when he stops…_

_And launches himself at me. _

That is when I wake up. And that is why I needed Evan with me. Obviously.

On Friday night, I scared Evan even more than I had done the first time as I was practically hyperventilating. It took all his persuasive skills to calm me down, rubbing my back, and murmuring soothing promises.

"Was it the nightmare again?"

I nodded my head yes.

He pulled me gently to him, rocking me back and forth, and whispering into my hair, "Well, I'm not dead. I'm right here, whole and healthy. You're safe. I promise."

I nodded and murmured into his chest, "I know. I don't know why I'm having these dreams now. He's dead."

He sighed, "Well, I am no expert, but maybe the danger was made more real to you by your seeing him…I wish I could have spared you that."

I shrugged, knowing there was nothing I could say that would help remove the guilt he felt.

After a moment, I looked up and asked him, "Do you think if I had seen his body being burnt myself that my subconscious would have realized that the danger was over?"

He grimaced, apparently not liking the idea. "It's possible, I suppose, but like I said, I'm no expert on the subconscious."

He then shifted tactics, and said, "But I am an expert in other areas."

Raising my eyebrows, I queried, "Oh yeah?"

He grinned, "Yeah, I don't know if you know this, but I play a mean cello. After a cup of hot tea and a lullaby or two, you'll be ready to go back to sleep."

I laughed a little at this, commenting slyly, "That's your definition of a 'mean cello'? Putting me to sleep?"

He rolled his eyes, qualifying, "In this case, yes. Are you game?"

I nodded and got up, but before we went downstairs, he leaned down and kissed my forehead, saying softly, "It's going to be okay."

I smiled and whispered back confidently, "I know."

* * *

Evan took me home the next morning as planned. I left my sketches of Jake with Nessie as it wouldn't be prudent to have any of _those_ lying around for just anybody to see.

Ian greeted me from over his newspaper at the kitchen table, "Hey kiddo, how was your trip?"

I went over and gave him a kiss on the forehead before grabbing the last of the coffee for myself, replying brightly, "It was great, Dad! I got to see a few shooting stars and some wildlife." (All true, if you consider Jacob in his wolf form wildlife, and on Thursday night, there were a few meteorites that streaked across the sky.)

"How was your trip?"

He set down his paper and smiled contentedly, saying "Not too bad. She only dragged me through a few antique shops yesterday. Evan, why don't you sit down and have a cup?"

Evan shook his head and politely declined, "No, thanks, Mr. Darby. I have to get back and help unload and store everything away," and then he added teasingly, "Besides, it looks like you'll have to make another pot."

Ian looked from my cup, which Evan had nodded towards, to the empty pot, and sighed, muttering under his breath, "Cadie's home."

Evan laughed heartedly at this before waving goodbye and letting himself out.

Ian got up and made another pot, but did not resume his reading of the paper. This was partially because I had gone through it behind his back to grab the sports and comic sections, our two favorites.

I was in the middle of reading of how the Calgary Flames beat the Edmonton Oilers, when he commented, "You know, I think this trip has been good for you. You are less tense than you have been in the past weeks."

I grunted noncommittally, a little surprised that he had noticed. He was more observant than I gave him credit for.

Deciding that I should probably give him an explanation for my strange behavior, I smiled bemusedly and shrugged, "I guess, I just needed a break from school."

His brow furrowed, and he remarked confusedly, "Okay, if you say so, but I don't remember senior year, especially the second semester, being all that difficult…And the tension seemed to be more between you and Evan."

Okay, so he was _really_ observant. Who knew?

Keeping my cool somehow, I shrugged dismissively and looked back at the paper, casually observing, "Well, the times have changed a little, Dad. There's more pressure to succeed, and I do have a heavier workload."

Not completely deterred, he asked, "And Evan?"

I blurted, "He's pressuring me."

At his horrified expression, I hastily amended, "No! Not like that! I just meant that he wants me to decide about college and stuff, and I can't decide and particularly don't want to."

"It's getting kind of close to when you do have to decide, isn't it?" he asked concernedly.

"Yeah," I shrugged again. "Right now, I don't have enough money for either, so I think I might just get a job and decide in the fall or something."

"You sure didn't inherit your mother's drive and ambition."

I grinned, relieved that I got him off track. "That or I did, and it just hasn't kicked into full gear yet."

He harrumphed and stole the sports section back, leaving me the comics, which I didn't mind. My team didn't play until tomorrow anyways.

I left not long after that to do laundry and to avoid anymore awkward questions from Ian. It was sweet that he had noticed these things and cared about me enough to ask. Having Sukey in his life was making him a little more sensitive to emotional cues, I guess. Yea, me.

School was pretty much the same come Monday morning. The teachers were cranky because they didn't get to relax as much as their students with all the papers that they had to grade. If you ask me, they had no cause to complain. If they wanted to enjoy a week off, they should not have made them due the week before.

Jeffrey, Dani, and Max had all been among the group that had gone to the lake for break, and Maggie had gone with her family on vacation as well. They all had pictures to show me and tales to tell. They were very disappointed that I didn't have very much documentation of my break. Regan was especially aggrieved as she was intensely curious about the Cullens' camping trips.

The only truly bizarre thing that happened was Emilee pulling me off to the side before lunch to offer me a job of all things.

"Hey Cadie! Can I talk to you?" she called after me as Evan and I were leaving English Composition.

I waved Evan on as I could tell his presence was making her nervous and agreed, "Yeah, sure. What's up?"

"So you know how my mother is the chairwoman of the school board?"

"No," I admitted, not sure where this was going.

She seemed shocked at that, but moved on anyways, "Oh, well, she is, and she wants to run for mayor since Patterson is stepping down for health reasons."

Not wanting to reveal my ignorance even further, I refrained from asking what was wrong with his health. I really had been in my own little world these past few months.

She continued, finally getting around to what this all had to do with me, saying, "So anyways, she needs someone to help her with her website, and I recommended you."

Taken aback, I blurted, "Gee, thanks, Em, for thinking of me, but I don't think that I am all that qualified for that kind of thing."

She shook her blond curly head, saying dismissively, "Oh, I don't mean the technological stuff. She's got someone for that, but he's not very good with making it _look_ good. I was thinking you could do what you did for your mom's website and prettify it, you know. And maybe design some of the layouts for ads and stuff. She'll pay you well, and maybe you'll have enough money to go on that European trip that you wanted to go on. You still want to do that, right?"

I nodded and beamed, "Oh yes! Of course, I do."

"So you'll do it?" she pressed.

"Yes, it would be my pleasure!" I readily agreed, amazed at my good luck and Emilee's thinking of me like this. I hadn't really talked to her for quite some time. "When and where would your mother like me to come in to discuss the details?"

She sagged in relief and smiled, "Oh some time this week, whenever you have the chance, you can come by my house. You know where it's at?"

I nodded, and said gratefully, "Thanks, Em."

She smiled her welcome and waved goodbye as she went to join Genevieve and Tiffany.

I went straight after school in my excitement, and Mrs. Graham was more than gracious and very generous. When I left I did a quick mental tally of all the money that was being offered for my various services, and it was more than enough to help support me in my backpacking trip or first semester of college.

The sun came out at that moment, and I danced a little jig all the way into the house.

Life was good. Life without a homicidal maniac was even better. It was fan-(for once) figuratively bloody-tastic.

* * *

**AN: **Next chapter - All That I Ask of You


	46. Chapter 45 All That I Ask of You

Chapter 45 – All that I Ask of You

Life continued in this blissful manner for about a month. School was humdrum. I was earning money doing something that I actually liked; despite the fact that Mrs. Graham's techie was really annoying and difficult to work with. Life was peachy, grand even.

And then like a sudden and unexpected outpouring of cold water my nirvana experience ended.

I had to send out things like graduation invitations for one. Worse than that, however, was everyone's constant talking of "after." Ugh.

So-and-so had plans to do this, and somebody else had plans to do that. The captain of the varsity cheer squad still had things up in the air but was leaning towards going to the local post-secondary school and getting her MRS degree.

The only reason I knew that was because Tiffany and Genevieve were standing in front of me in the lunch line when she connected that bit of news to my own plans.

I was mentally bemoaning the fact that Evan's presence and the sun's could not coincide at the same time while I was at school, when she turned to me asking cattily, "That's what your plans are, aren't they Cadie?"

"What?" I asked looking to Maggie and Dani, who were standing behind me, for an explanation.

"Amber Kelly is going for a semester or two of college as a stopgap until Nick Carver pops the question. Isn't that what you're doing? Waiting for the Cullens' stray to make you Mrs. Keegan?"

My fingers twitched in that moment, not to sketch like they normally would, but rather to slap her so hard that her ears would ring until prom. I instead, however, quite calmly replied, "No, I was raised to be an enlightened woman. If we were to marry, he would take on the name of Darby."

She looked at me like I was a freak and then turned back to Genevieve to resume her gossiping.

I'm not sure where that comment came from, but it was much better than the one I had briefly considered even dreaming about saying. However, something along the lines of "No, actually, I'm waiting for him to get over his scruples and bite me with his venomous vampire teeth in order to turn me into a bloodsucking immortal just like him" was not appropriate.

I obviously didn't say it, but it was quite fun to imagine.

When we got to the table, Maggie felt compelled to tell Regan about Tiffany's and my little exchange, which prompted them to then ask me what my plans were.

I shrugged, which was becoming my habitual response to this question, saying "I don't know. I'm leaning towards going to Europe. That sounds far more appealing than another four years of school right away."

They all nodded except for Regan, who said, "I don't know about that. Except for general education classes, we'll be able to study whatever interests us the most."

"True," I conceded hoping that this would end the conversation. It was making my stomach queasy.

But there was no such luck.

While I fiddled with my charm bracelet, I listened to Maggie talk about how she wanted to go and study music and possibly earn a degree in that or in education. She would make an excellent elementary music teacher in my opinion. I also listened to Dani talk about how she wasn't going to take four years, but instead she was going earn her degree as fast as possible so that she could get a job as an analyst for some government investigative agency. Now imagining little Dani working for a police force helping them catch bad guys was a little hard to do, but I knew she had the will power and fortitude to see it out. Jeffrey talked of getting into the music industry and being a sound specialist. He had no idea how he was going to do it, but that was his goal. Regan's goal went without saying.

All of my friends were ambitious, and I lacked ambition. The thing that stung the most about Tiffany's comment was that there was some truth in it. My priorities were no longer learning all I could about art and making the world a more beautiful place. I was now _that_ girl whose very happiness was wrapped around the idea of riding off into the sunset with the Prince of Charm.

This was not what made my stomach twist the most though. No, what made my stomach contort like some circus freak was the fact that the one person I wanted – no, _needed_ – to talk to, was the one person who I couldn't. From previous experience, I knew that if I brought up the subject, I would be shut down. Evan had made up his mind to the point that he had practically an allergic reaction to anything remotely connected to the possibility of me doing anything other than The Plan. I'm not even sure it was the plan anymore. I had a sneaking suspicion that he felt either duty-bound or driven by a finely honed sense of self-preservation to go cold turkey with me post-graduation.

It was this niggling doubt at the back of my mind: that he didn't even want to be friends once we both left this little po-dunk town that sent me into an emotional downward spiral as I went about my day. By the time I made it home and up to my room, I began to think that Evan did not want me as much as I wanted him. He didn't want to try for the happily forever after. He didn't love me like I thought he did.

_He says that he loves me, but he doesn't want me. He says that he loves me so much that he wants me to find someone who deserves me, someone who can give me all that he can't._

_It's the typical break up line that every girl gets from a boyfriend who doesn't want to appear the jerk he is. But he wasn't actually calling it a break up. What the hell am I to think?_

I groaned aloud, "This is pointless. There is no point stewing over this to the point it makes me sick."

So learning from my experience of being jealous of Tanya, I called him as soon as he came back from his hunting trip on Friday and told him to meet me at the lovers' lookout. There was a grouping of picnic tables set up at the top of the hill where I nearly suffered death by escaped log. I don't know why I picked this spot; other than, the possible reason that I didn't want to taint our other spots, that is.

Evan might not like it, but I was going to settle this once and for all.

_Dia cabhrú liom._

* * *

When Jasper, Alice, and I got home from hunting, I was greeted with Nessie's concerned face and Jacob's poor attempt to hide a gleeful one. This was never good because Jake, despite being my friend, thoroughly enjoyed watching us squirm, and the only thing that could cause both of their expressions to be like that is Cadie.

"What?" I asked reluctantly.

"You are so in trouble…" Jake announced happily.

Nessie rolled her eyes, saying irritably, "We _don't_ know that, Jake. She could be acting this way for a many number of reasons."

He scoffed, arguing, "Yeah, but since when has she ever been like that around you or Zach, when it hasn't had to do with Evan?"

"Hello! I'm right here, and I would like to know whatever it is you two are dancing around," I cut in impatiently.

Nessie faced me with an apologetic expression, saying, "Sorry, it's just that Cadie has been awful quiet since Wednesday."

"Do you know what about?" I inanely asked.

She shook her head, "No, she wouldn't talk about it when I asked, which usually means it has to do with you because, like Jake said, she does that only when it is about you."

I sighed and then patted her on the shoulder, "Thanks for the heads up, Nessie."

"Sure, sure," she replied, using Jake's favorite expression.

"Are you going to call her?" Jacob asked nosily.

I shook my head and informed him, "No, I'm going to go over and see her."

"Good luck," he replied, for once not sarcastic.

"Thanks."

I was on my way out the door when I got her call. She sounded distant and formal. This was not a good sign. Nor was it that she picked a spot that would haunt my nightmares if I could dream.

When I got there, I saw that she was sitting at a bench facing the river below. She was wearing a dark green blouse with a long-sleeved black undershirt. It was very becoming. As much as I appreciated it, I wish that she was wearing something a little warmer as it looked like there was a storm getting ready to blow in.

She was so deep in thought that she didn't hear me approach until I started whistling a Phantom of the Opera song. This seemed to register with her, and she snorted very inelegantly, muttering something about the irony as she turned to face me.

Ignoring her bad mood, I leaned down and kissed her cheek, greeting her as cheerfully as I could, "Hi, love. Have I ever told you how much I like that blouse on you?"

I sat down across from her. The view behind me that she so admired was nothing in comparison to the one that lay before me.

She smiled a little and replied, "Hello, Evan, and no, you have never told me that, probably because I have never worn this before."

"Huh," I responded inarticulately, "When did you get it?"

She shrugged, "Sukey got it for me as a thank you gift for the help I gave her in finding something for Ian's birthday a couple of weeks ago."

I nodded recalling that weekend and my amusement at her discomfort. She had said yes, not knowing that she would be dragged from one store to another all day and being required to listen to the woman analyze her relationship with Cadie's father for a large portion of it.

"So I didn't exactly call you here to discuss my wardrobe," she abruptly stated.

I raised my eyebrows, patiently asking, "What did you want to discuss?"

She sighed and began to fiddle with her charm bracelet, finally asking quietly, "Do you still hold to the same belief that you did back in February?"

I sighed, "Cadie, is that what has been bothering you these past few days?"

"Yes," she rushed out. "School is almost over. You and your family are going to be moving on, and I want to know if I am going to be going with you."

I looked at her hopelessly. I wanted to say yes so badly. I imagined what it would be like for a brief moment, and then I also imagined what that would entail, what the cost would be. I loved her too much to say yes. I couldn't.

I as much as said so, and her face fell and the light of hope went out of her eyes. She looked so hurt. I reached across the table to lift her chin and comfort her, but she pulled back, saying quietly, "No, Evan."

"Cadie…" I pleaded.

"No, Evan," she asserted with more emphasis. Her tone of voice was stringent and harsh as she hastily brushed the tears from her cheeks. "You can't fix this with some pretty speech."

She took a few calming breaths and then continued more evenly, looking at me squarely, "You say that you love me, but then you say you don't want me. Love is forever, Evan. I want you forever, but you don't want that."

I could not believe she was saying this. Hadn't I told her, showed her how much I loved her? Couldn't she see that I was only doing this because I loved her? Sacrificing my selfish desires for her benefit, wasn't that the greatest act of love?

"I _do_ love you, Cadie. I want you more than anything. How can you not know that?" I choked out.

"Do you, Evan? Do you?" she questioned doubtfully. "Because I honestly can't help but think that you don't love me as much as you think you do."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I unintentionally exploded. It was just too much.

She looked away and locked her jaw, gearing up to spit out what she was really thinking, and when she did let it out, it was a doozy.

"I can't help but think that the reason I feel like I don't measure up to Eliza is, not because you find her prettier or better, but just for the simple reason that you love her more. You have said that you want to grow old with me, which is a nice sentiment, but nothing more, as _you can't. _What you can do – you have only offered to her. You refuse to offer forever with _me_."

It hurt me that she was still stuck on Eliza, that she was comparing herself to that ghost of a woman. It hurt that she didn't believe me that I loved her as much as I did. But my pain was not what was important. I needed to alleviate hers first and foremost.

"Cadie, did it ever occur to you that it is because I love you more?"

"That you love me more 'purely' and 'unselfishly'?" she cut in angrily. "That's bullcrap, Evan."

I was at a loss for how to deal with her. She was unwilling to see my point of view and was acting like a child. So I just looked at her and waited for her to vent all of her feelings, hoping that when she was done, she would be ready to listen.

A breeze blew up, swirling her hair around her, bringing her scent towards me. My throat began to burn and venom began to pour into my mouth. This natural reaction that my kind had towards hers was enough to emphasize for me why I was so adamant against even pursuing a relationship like one that we had even now. One day I would make a mistake. One day she would be dead at my hands, and I did not want that. She was too precious.

Completely oblivious to my inner struggle, she looked off into the distance with her arms crossed across her chest searching for words as indicated by her lip-nibbling. Finally, she whispered, "You know when Ashley left with her family and then Eddie chose to gallivant around the world doing good deeds, I understood and accepted it. I didn't feel abandoned per se. I just felt left behind in that their lives were continuing and mine was stagnant."

Her eyes carefully roved over my face taking everything in. Her voice still at whisper level as she said, "Back when we were first friends, I knew that we would part ways in June. I thought that I could have accepted it then. I don't know if I was fooling myself or not, but I felt that I could have gone on and looked back at this part of my life as a beautiful memory."

She paused, before adding, "I would have still been whole."

I was about to cut in, when she held up her hand to stop me, continuing, "When we became best friends, I knew that you had become too important to let go without extreme pain. When I voiced this concern, you promised me that we could still be a part of each other's lives. I guess now, I see that even then you would have distanced yourself from me. It would have been gradual then and possibly less painful. I don't know."

Her voice became a little louder and firmer, and her tone and expression went from thoughtful to accusatory as she declared, "Now, however, I won't be whole. You have become an integral part of my very being. I chose to believe you when you said that you loved me and that we were going to find some way to make this work."

Her eyes darkened as she made her passionate plea: "We _can_ make this work. Just look at how far we've come! But we can't do this if you are so hell bent on not trying and playing the martyr."

"Playing the martyr?" I asked incredulously. Sometimes the strange workings of her mind were not amusing in the least.

She nodded, looking at me hesitantly, "Sometimes I think that the reason that you say no is because you can't let go of your identity of being the forever star-crossed lover. The last time you had a chance of happiness it was because she rejected you; this time you have a chance at it, and you're throwing it away, for a reason that I cannot fathom."

This girl was not making a bit of sense. She had to have been pondering this in circles way into the middle of the night making herself sick.

I sighed, trying to explain my reasoning to her yet again, "Cadie, sometimes personal happiness isn't everything. I want you more than you can possibly know, but it's not right for me to keep you for myself forever. It's not right for me to risk your life like I have been or make you give up on all that life, a normal human life, can offer, just so that I can be happy. So yes I am choosing to be a martyr, but it's not because I get some personal satisfaction out of it. It's going to be agony, but I've lived through it."

She gazed at me heartbrokenly and fearfully, voicing tremulously, "What if I can't?"

I looked at her squarely and smiled encouragingly, "You can because you are strong, and humans, I have discovered, are amazingly adaptable creatures."

She rolled her eyes, muttering, "Yeah, whatever."

She looked away again. This time she did not stare off into the distance as if searching for a solution or to find peace in her surroundings as she geared up for another round. No, this time her gaze was focused inward. Her shoulders were tense, and she was slightly hunched over. I so wanted to reach over and touch her, to soothe her, but the gap of forty-five point seven centimeters was too far. It might as well have been the distance between here and the moon.

Finally, she sighed and reluctantly reached down into the bag at her feet and pulled out her sketchbook. She placed it on the table between us and said to my chest, "For the past few nights, I have been wide awake thinking about this, what I wanted to say, trying to predict what you would say, and last night I gave up and just …Well, you can see for yourself;" and then after carefully turning the pages a few times, she turned it around and pushed it towards me.

It was heartrending. Literally.

The first drawing was of an anatomically correct heart being torn in two by hands that looked like my own. They weren't even halves, either. The larger portion was the one being pulled towards where my body would be if it had been drawn, and the considerably smaller portion was being pushed towards where I assume she would have been. It was quite graphic.

The second had a girl in profile with travel bags at her feet reaching, hesitantly but longingly, towards a family in silhouette that had their backs to her as they walked away towards the horizon.

The third was a girl standing in a crowded room of what looked to be a celebration, but not smiling, as she held herself together shrinking away from the spectral figure hovering just behind her that no one else seemed to see.

The fourth was the stark and deeply bolded word – **ALONE**. Tears had fallen on the page, and it looked as if she had tried to wipe them away, artistically smearing across the page, driving her point home even more.

There were more, but I couldn't look at them. I wasn't prepared for this. I'm not even sure if Nessie had been able to tell me how bad it really was that I would have been able to. But as much as they tormented me, my decision remained the same.

"I'm sorry, Cadie," I said quietly with all the remorse I felt.

It wasn't enough.

Her mouth dropped open, and she cried out in justifiable anger, "Sorry! I poured my heart out to you, and you can only say 'Sorry'?"

"What do you want me to say?"

She stood up then, grabbed her sketchbook, shoved it into her bag, and began to storm away.

So obviously not that.

I jumped up and got in front of her, putting my hands gently on her arms to keep her from plowing into me and injuring herself and saying beseechingly, "Cadie, don't go. Not like this. We can find a solution. We always have. Come back…Please?"

She looked at me stonily, and corrected, "No, we haven't always. We have just agreed to put off the inevitable. But fine, whatever." Then turning around, she stormed back to the table.

I sighed and rubbed my hand through my hair, searching for something, anything. And then what she said gave me an idea, so I headed back into the ring with a little more hope for a chance of success.

Cadie, not being one to circle, didn't wait long to go on the offensive. She jabbed out as soon as I sat down, still looking at my chest, "Do you even know why I find you to be a complete jackass at the moment?"

Knowing silence was the better part of valor, I refrained from answering.

She continued nearly on the verge of tears again, "The best part of our relationship was the fact that we were friends. You even said it yourself once. But you know what? Lately, you don't listen to me. You don't hear me. You let the fact that I'm human get in the way of our happiness. You say you're sorry, but you don't change. The friend that I fell in love with would have seen those pictures for what they are, and he would have held me, letting me pour out my heart in any way I could. And he would have been _moved_ by that. He would have continued looking at the drawings and have kept his mouth shut until he had something worthwhile to say."

At the beginning of that little speech I had plenty of stuff to say, but by the end of it, I had nothing – at least not at the moment. She was right. So I reached over and opened up her bag to pull out the sketchbook. Turning to the appropriate page, the first one she showed me, I looked at them again and saw not the argument that she making, but the pain she was feeling, the raw emotion.

I saw Cadie. I saw her as she believed what she would be like. Broken.

And she would be like that. I had been where she was at. I was going to do to her what Eliza had done to me. I was wrong. At least partially.

At the end of the seventh and final picture, I stopped and looked at her reaching out for her hand palm up.

She looked at it skeptically, before carefully putting her hand into mine. I placed my other one over it, before offering an olive branch.

"Would you be willing to start this conversation over again? Without you going on the offensive and me throwing up walls in defense? And talk this over like the reasonable, mature adults we are?

She tried to pull her hand out, but I kept it there, softly imploring, "Please?"

After a moment, she nodded curtly and muttered something along the lines of: "I will if you will.

Taking what I could get, I smiled grimly in relief before leading with, "One of your charges seems to be that I am not willing to take into account your desires on this issue, that I am arbitrarily and unilaterally deciding the direction the future of our relationship is going to go."

"Yes," she grit out, "It's really annoying: you deciding what is best for me, what will make me happy, not for once taking in my opinion. It's very 'father knows best.'"

I grimaced at that repeated accusation. Apparently, I hadn't learned my lesson from our argument back in October. I bowed my head briefly in acknowledgment of the truth of her statement, before continuing, "Okay, It's true that on this subject I have been a bit of a blockhead, _but_ you have to admit that every time I try to explain myself – you aren't listening to me either."

"Cadie," I pleaded, begging her with every fiber in my being for her to understand. "Your greatest fear is of being abandoned. Mine used to be that I'll hurt you. Now, I'm afraid of that _and _I'm afraid that you'll hurt me. You're not the only one who is vulnerable here, you know."

"No, I didn't," she contradicted softly, after stifling a sound of disbelief. "How could I hurt you?"

I chuckled, unamused, "You could hurt me so easily, _a __stor_. You could come to hate me for being selfish and jumping at the chance of having someone who will love me forever. You could resent me for robbing you of your opportunity to explore the other path in your fork of the road. I am afraid that you'll come to regret not living a normal life and be discontent in the one we share."

I sighed heavily, a little relieved to get that off my chest uninterrupted for once. But realizing that I needed to cut to the chase, I hastily continued, "Those are my fears, and I may be wrong but I think you also fear the depth of your feelings for me. Don't you?"

Cadie squirmed a little and tried to deny it, but I was having none of that. I held her gaze until she bit her lip and her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. The latter was not my goal, so I quickly reassured her, "It's okay if you do. I understand. I swore to myself that I would never place myself in this position again, and yet here I am."

She squeezed my hand, her features softening a little with a mixture of gratitude and empathy. After awhile though, she asked despondently, "So are we at an impasse?"

"Not necessarily" I shook my head and then asked hesitantly, "What if we came to a compromise that might help alleviate both our fears?"

She leaned back, eyeing me cautiously, her air of chariness returning, "Alright, if you think it's possible, I'm listening."

Taking a deep breath, I proposed: "What if, in a few years you humor me and give yourself sometime away from me to take stock about your feelings and about what you want, experience life a little, and all that jazz, before we make any kind of decision?"

"And at the end of this indefinite timeframe, we would meet somewhere and discuss the future again? And actually make a decision?" She asked skeptically.

"Something like that," I agreed, hoping she could see that I was truly trying here.

She thought about it for several moments, before finally agreeing. "Fine. But it is on the condition that your 'few years' is more like one."

I sighed in relief; if she was willing to haggle, then there was hope.

"Five," I counter offered.

Cadie pounced on that, "Two."

"Five."

"I'll be twenty-three, and you'll be eighteen!" she protested. "That will exacerbate, not ease my abandonment issues."

"Fine, three." I amended.

She looked so disappointed in my answer, in me, that I wavered, just enough to stop and realize that I was being chauvinistic again, as she would have said. She was right, when she complained that I had been the one dictating the terms of the relationship, and it was all for my benefit. I had had the chance to do the right thing before all this started, and I blew it and gave into my selfishness. If I hadn't, she might not be suffering as she was now.

She deserved to have her proposal at least considered theoretically. I owed her that much for letting this carry on so far. But whether we waited a year or five, my mind would not be changed. I wouldn't let it. She hadn't considered the ramifications of her request. Once she actually did consider them though, she would see that I was right. I just needed to get her to agree to enough time away from me so that her mind would be more open to the truth of our situation.

But I tried anyways to lay them out for her now. "Okay, let's just for argument's sake say that we do it your way, you decide that this is what you really want, and I honor your decision in _two_ years. It would have to be forever, Cadie. No going back."

"Forever, truly? Not just a lifetime?" she asked seeking clarification. Mixed emotions of hope and confusion flitting across her pale porcelain face. She obviously saw this as a positive.

I nodded, "It would have to be forever for several reasons. One of them is that there's the possibility that I might impregnate you, despite all the precautions we take, and then I would have to bite you in order to save you anyways. The other is that the longer we are together like this the more likely the Volturi will find out, and the consequences are devastating, which is not something I'm willing to risk. But, Cadie, are you prepared for what this could mean? The risks that you could be taking?"

She looked even more confused now, so I elaborated, "You could possibly die from the bite. Not everyone survives the transformation, you know. But let's just say for argument's sake that you do manage to live. Are you ready to give up your life as you know it? Turn your back on your family and friends? Bella has gotten the fortunate experience of still being able to communicate with her loved ones, but that won't be possible for you. I don't think Ian is flexible enough to deal with the truth. You won't get to talk to him, your mom, Mark, Old Tink, Zach, or any of your other friends. They'll have to think you are dead. Car accident or whatever would be the reason given. Do you want to do that to your family and friends? Is that the life that you have really chosen?"

I let that sink in, and sink in it did. Her face said it all as she imagined how that would play out, and her body practically wilted under the growing conviction that I was right. I wish I had thought of this argument long before. I should have known that Cadie wouldn't care about the risks she would have been taking. No, that would not have mattered to her. Not even the possibility of losing out on the happiness of motherhood would have dissuaded her. The one thing she could not stand is the fact that her happiness would hurt others. She wouldn't be able to do it.

Before I could let out a sigh of relief, however, she threw out her hands in agitation, nearly smacking me in my face. The only reason she didn't was because of my extraordinarily quick reflexes. She pressed on exclaiming, "Fine! You are right. I have not thought this all the way through like you have. … But that would be the point of this … this 'sabbatical' in our relationship. It would give me time to think about all of this, and you time to reconsider your position on what's best…Right?"

I sighed, conceding defeat. She wasn't going to budge now, but maybe she would after few years away from me. It was something to hope for at least, so I answered, "Yes, that would be the point. But, Cadie, in those two years, you are to be living your life and _enjoying_ it like a normal person who has no plans to become an undead monster."

She irately blurted out, "You're not a monster, Evan!" before the full import of what I had said registered with her. When it did, her jaw dropped in shock, and she asked incredulously, "Really? In two years?"

I grimaced and confirmed, "Really. In two years, I will agree to meet with you and see if you are still desirous of such a fate."

She beamed as she absorbed the fact that she had gained a minor victory.

It was indeed going to be minor, for I continued, "_But_ it is on the condition that I will not change you until a year later, so that you can say your goodbyes with your family and friends. There will be none of that in the two year 'sabbatical.'"

She didn't look too happy with that. Her lips were pursed as she examined my face thoughtfully, searching for something. Whatever it was, I do not know, but she finally sighed, and replied, "Okay, I can see the wisdom in that. Thank you, Evan."

I held out my hand, and she shook it, concluding the negotiations, with the less than gracious words, "You're still a chivalrous arse."

I smiled slightly, and whispered somewhat sadly, "I know, but for some reason you love me enough to want to put up with that for all eternity."

She nodded, her mouth lifting up a little in acknowledgment of the irony, before shivering. The breeze had picked up again, prompting me to ask, "Shall I walk you to your car?"

She nodded, "Yeah, the Hearse is parked down by the bridge."

"I know. I saw," I commented needlessly.

We were pretty much silent on the walk down to the vehicles. She was watching the sunset, and I was struggling with all the ramifications of this pact. Deciding on discussing the more immediate of issues, I asked as we reached her car, "So where does this leave us?"

She looked at me curiously, before the light went on, and she said, "Oh! You mean, now and until graduation?"

"Yeah."

She shrugged and answered, "I don't know. The prudent thing might be trying to go back to just being friends, so that we're not going cold turkey when it comes time to leave. But I'm not exactly ready to switch off the romantic part of our relationship either…"

I nodded and leaned down, suggesting, "So maybe instead of switching it off…we dial it down…like this?" And then I kissed her softly, not nearly as intense as I used to, but still no less powerful as evidenced by her leaning against the car for support, when I was done.

She bit her lip and grinned slowly, "Yeah, that seems fine."

I kissed her on the nose and then opened her car door for her, whispering huskily, "Good night, Cadie. Drive safely, please."

She nodded as she got in, and then quickly pulled out of the parking lot. Neither of us requested that we hang out further tonight or even at all sometime during this weekend. We needed time apart to deal with this new transition.

Despite this truth, old habits die hard, and I raced to my truck so that I could follow her home and make sure she was safe, before I sought out counsel from my family.

I needed Carlisle's wisdom and Edward's experience. I had no idea what I had just done.

* * *

**AN: **and the downward spiral begins...

Flames, love, etc. All are welcome!


	47. Chapter 46 So Close

Chapter 46 – So Close

I had had no idea what I was going to say exactly to Evan when I saw him. I spent all night on Thursday tossing and turning trying to figure and plan it out, but it was no use. I felt that no matter what I said, I could never dissuade him. It was a miracle that we had even gotten this far against his "better" judgment.

I'm still not sure how I managed to convince him to agree to our deal of two years.

Now that I'm back in my room sorting through my laundry, I'm not even sure that I feel it was all that much of a victory as I think on it. There were too many loopholes, and all that I may have achieved is a delay in the final goodbye, once again.

I'm not even certain all that talk about his fears were entirely sincere. Well, I know that is what he probably does feel. But was he being open and honest with me or was he using it as a tool to manipulate me? His little compromise certainly seemed to be catering to his fears more than mine. And what about that deft little use of my secondary fears? That was certainly clever of him to mention my emotional uncertainties to garner my sympathy and appreciation. Silver-tongued bastard.

I'm not even sure why I'm trying so hard for this relationship. Sure, Evan is wonderful, but is he worth all this heartache and worry?

My head snapped up at this ridiculous question to examine my reflection and make sure it was mine and not my mother's. It was indeed mine, but it had dark circles underneath its eyes and its skin tone was paler than normal. It was not a pretty sight. If Evan had not made it so abundantly clear that he thought me beautiful, I would think this was the reason behind his reluctance.

Ugh. Screw laundry and chores. I needed a nap. If Ian saw me now, he would have me committed, or worse – _hospitalized _(again).

I was awoken from said nap by the slamming open of my door and the little she-devil's bouncing on the foot of my bed.

"Is it true?" Nessie asked anxiously.

I sat up and rubbed the sleep from my eyes, trying to focus on her. Once I did, I groggily asked her, "Is what true?"

"That you agreed to disappear from our lives for _three years_!" she exclaimed despondently.

I yawned, correcting, "Well, only part of that is true."

Her brow furrowed in confusion, "Which part?"

I grinned conspiratorially, "We only agreed that we would take a sabbatical for _two _years, and only from each other. Nothing was mentioned of our friendship, Nessie."

"Ooohhh," she dragged out in admiration. "That's a good point. But I don't think Evan sees it that way."

I raised my eyebrows, "What gives you that impression?"

"Well," she sheepishly began, "I kind of blew up on him when I 'accidentally' overheard when he, Daddy, and Carlisle were talking about it. He didn't particularly care for my opinion in the matter."

I snorted, remarking wryly, "That's not surprising, as he doesn't particularly care for my opinion either."

"He's such a prat, sometimes," she declared, making the most adorable disgusted face.

"A true git," I agreed in my best imitation of a British accent.

"But you love him."

I sighed, admitting, "Yeah, I do," and burying my face in my pillow, I added morosely, "Just shoot me."

She giggled and then sighed, "I'm going to miss you."

I reached over and grabbed her hand to squeeze it gently, confessing quietly, "I'm going to miss you too. You're like the little sister that I never had, but even better."

She sniffed in mock offense, as she said, "I should hope so. I don't even steal your clothes, read your diary, or hog the bathroom."

"No, you only steal my private sketchbook and show it to your whole family," I teased.

She grinned impishly, admitting, "True, but it only happened once."

More seriously, she bemoaned, "Ugh, Who am I going to be able to tell when I get my first kiss? Everyone else is practically related to me. _And_ they all helped raise me!"

I laughed softly, "Write me a letter. My mother and Ian will always know how to reach me while I'm in Europe, or if something like that happens after I get back, you can call me on my cell."

"It's not the same," she whined petulantly.

"No, it's not," I agreed, but then to change the subject to a more cheerful and productive one, I said, "So, prom is coming up, and I'm going to need a dress that will knock his socks off. Any suggestions?"

She shook her head vigorously, her curls swaying and bouncing with the movement, "No, but I'm sure if we asked Alice and Esme for help we could find something more than satisfactory."

I returned her mischievous grin with one of my own. With friends like Alice and Nessie, one could conquer the world, or at least turn one boy-man's world upside down.

* * *

Project Socks, as Nessie fondly called our endeavor, began on Sunday, at least on my part. Saturday was devoted to chores, homework, and travel plans research. Alice did her own research and had a few possibilities. I liked them all. They were very me. What I objected to, however, was their expensiveness.

Alice rolled her eyes dramatically, "Cadie, the price doesn't matter. This is my graduation gift to you instead of a party."

I looked to Nessie for confirmation. This was too good to be true. No party and a designer dress?

She nodded in confirmation, grinning widely.

Alice ignored us and turned to Esme, who was examining the print outs that were strewn all over the floor of my den, asking, "What do you think?"

"I don't know. I like the hemline of this one," she pointed to a dark red Vera Wang, but then pointing to an aquamarine dress that I did not recognize the name of, she said, "But I like the overall cut of this one."

She nodded, agreeing, "I do too. All of these have good qualities that I like, but none of them are the One."

She then quickly scooped them up, stating, "Well, now that I know what you like too, Cadie, I think that I can find something."

"Now, shoes!" exclaimed Nessie.

And the whole process began again.

It was three weeks until prom, and in that time while Alice and her co-conspirators were concerning themselves with my wardrobe, I was preparing myself for graduation and my trip. I got all of my homework done early, so that I would have more time to devote to my friends.

I coerced Zach to go with me to a benefit concert that Maggie and Dani had organized for research for domestic animals suffering from psychiatric disorders, which Regan's youngest nephew's dog seemed to be a member of. (I helped with the advertisement portion of their venture.)

The reason that I needed Zach's presence was that Evan could not join me until after sunset, as the concert was to be outside beginning in the early evening, and because I did not want to be a third wheel to Regan's and Jeff's first quasi-date. Eventually, they were going to admit that they were more than friends, but I didn't think that it was going to be until after high school.

We were seated on a blanket on a hill just above the amphitheater listening to a local blues group, when Zach looked over at me and ever so casually mentioned, "So I hear you decided on going to Europe."

"Yep," I agreed, knowing that my recalcitrance would amuse him.

"I also hear that you are planning on running away and eloping with Evan Keegan," he informed me, getting to the heart of the matter.

"Nope," I snorted. "That rumor is false."

"Huh," he grunted. "Aren't you lucky."

This cryptic comment caught my attention, so I rolled my head over lackadaisically, popped my gum that I had been blowing bubbles with, and did my best imitation of Evan's one eyebrow thing.

He laughed and said, "That needs a little more work, but all I meant by that was if they were true, you would be in a world of hurt as my dad has very strong opinions on weddings, especially the one concerning his goddaughter."

"Oh dear, you must have gotten an earful at dinner," I surmised, wincing in sympathy as well as in reaction to the reminder that I would not get my "famous happy end."

"_And_ at breakfast _and_ at work _and_ during the game that night after that…"

"He didn't call Ian to find out the truth for himself?"

He shrugged, "I think, he thought it wouldn't be an elopement if your dad knew about it."

"Huh," I breathed out as I turned back to watch the band again. "Well, you can tell your dad that matrimony isn't on my horizon at all. I'm going to Europe and then who knows where, and Evan is going to a university in the States. They offered him more money, and it's closer to where Dr. Cullen has accepted a new job."

"The Cullens are leaving?" he asked surprised.

I nodded glumly, "Yeah, I think so. It's more money. Esme has been asked to restore a historical building, and there is a good private secondary school that they want to enroll Nessie in."

"Wow, that sounds like a sweet deal for them," he commented.

"It's going to be quiet at the shop though, isn't it?"

"Depressingly so," he agreed. "And I suppose, Jacob will be going with them?"

"Probably," I stated noncommittally.

He sighed, and then he wryly remarked, "You know, if the music was a little more upbeat, this wouldn't be as depressing for me, since I'll get more work hours in the shop and have fewer distractions."

I snorted again, saying, "Be careful what you wish for. I think Maggie arranged a group to do covers for some peppy pop songs. They should be either the next group or the one after."

He groaned, "Lovely. If that's the case, then I'm splitting after that. Your dad's tiramisu is good, but nothing is worth going through that torture."

"Fair enough," I consented between chuckles.

"Speaking of which," he interjected, "What part of the Old World are you planning on backpacking through?"

"Speaking of which?"

He rolled his eyes, "You know, tiramisu, foreign food, trip to various foreign countries…?

I nodded, "Uh-huh, whatever. Um…I think, I wanna see Rome, Florence, Venice, and other various parts of Italy, southern France, Paris, the British Isles, and Prague, for sure."

"Ambitious…" he commended.

"Yeah, but whether I'm going to see it all is still in question. I just haven't been able to decide what is a must do now and what is a try again later, ya know?"

"I frequently come across that dilemma," he replied with mock solemnity.

"Really?" I asked skeptically, waiting for the catch.

He nodded, "I never know whether to finish my second MLT – 'when the mutton is nice and lean' – or save room for that last bit of cheesecake…"

"Ha ha, very funny, Billy Crystal," I retorted.

He just grinned impishly until he heard Maggie announce that the next band was indeed doing covers for the latest radio favorites. He got up, saying, "Well, that's my cue…"

"Thanks, Zach," I waved in farewell, wishing that I could do the same, but Regan made me swear to stay with her. If she had to endure the torture in support of our friends' good deed, then I had to as well.

* * *

In the past three weeks, I have not got to see as much of Cadie as I would have liked. She was busy with homework, her job, and her friends. There was also the problem that this spring was sunnier than the last, which cut in on our time of being together at school. I understood all this, but that didn't mean I liked it, which was hypocritical of me as this probably made it easier on Cadie for when we inevitably parted ways.

A rather ironic consequence of this separation was that for the first time in all my existence I was looking forward to a dance. Alice, Nessie, and Esme had all been wrapped up in picking out Cadie's ensemble for the shindig, and their excitement was infectious. Bella was the only one who remained almost entirely unaffected by their enthusiasm, but she had never been too keen on these events either.

Much like last year, Cadie came over to get ready, except this time she spent the night the evening before at Nessie's request. That little scamp took an inordinate amount of enjoyment of having her all to herself for nearly twenty-four precious hours. She'll never quite forgive me for my decision.

The wait and the humiliation of asking Cadie to the dance (Nessie made sure I went all out, rose petals, candles, sappy romantic music, all of which made Cadie laugh at me before she choked out a yes) was nearly worth it.

She was ravishing.

I didn't want to take my eyes off of her to even notice exactly what she was wearing, but as I knew this was important to her, I examined every detail as she walked slowly and carefully from Nessie's room to the stairs.

Her dress was both green and black. Emerald green satin was the under layer, and black sheer silk was the top. The waistline was wide and fitted her torso quite snugly, separating the bust area from the skirt portion. Her curves in the aforesaid area were nicely accented by the halter top style straps. The skirt flared out to the knees, and glimpses of the green layer could be seen through the embroidered floral section by her left knee. As she descended the stairs, I noticed her shapely legs and then the dainty but simple black platform pumps.

My eyes slowly roamed up her again back to her face. Her hair was curled and half-piled on her head. The strands not piled were brought around to the front over her left shoulder accenting the length of her neck, and her earrings were emerald and onyx teardrops. Thankfully, her make-up was kept to a minimum, some mascara, eyeliner, and a little green eye shadow. Too much of those products, and it detracted from her perfection.

When she reached the bottom, I tied the requisite corsage to her wrist and kissed her pulse point, whispering "Breathtaking."

She smirked, "Not that you need to breathe."

I refrained from rolling my eyes, instead I rejoined, "No, but I'm in a perpetual state of discomfort because of you."

She blushed a delightful shade of pink at that compliment. I watched it avidly as it bloomed in her cheeks like a slowly opening rose. Who knew how many more of those I would get?

I escorted her out to Nessie's Vanquish, which she was so generously donating for the night. The two of us were arriving separately, because much like last year she was invited to the Stefanos' for a pre-prom get together. I didn't mind at all. This gave her the opportunity to be herself and laugh. It was a little awkward between us since that fateful Friday, and I had limited opportunities to enjoy her unique cadence.

Although we started the night off in a group, we did not stay that way. For most of the dances, she stayed in my arms. It was a sweet, pleasure pain. Having her there reminded me of how well she _fit_.

It was ironic that they chose to play Jon McLaughlin for the last song, because having her in my arms almost made me believe that our happy couple veneer was genuine.

It reminded me of how human and alive I felt with her.

And once she was gone, I would have to face the endless monotony that I knew before I met her.

I wish…

* * *

Evan dropped me off with a light but lingering kiss.

I quickly entered, eager to get out of the shoes that Esme loaned me. They were easier to walk in than last year's, but no less uncomfortable.

The phone began ringing as I was taking off the right one, and because I thought Ian might be sleeping in the den, I hopped on one foot to hastily pick it up, answering quietly with a "Hello?"

"Hello, Cadence," a raspy voice replied, sending chills down my spine.

And they weren't the good kind like the ones that I had gotten as Evan's eyes roved over me appreciatively.

"How can I help you?" I gritted out.

Heavy breathing that could have been interpreted as laughter was the only response.

I waited for something else, a cheesy threat, a lame line. I had learned that creepers who did this were not very inventive.

But there was nothing, so I gave up, grabbed my mace that was in my little purse, and began checking the locks on the windows and doors and rechecked the alarm that Ian had installed I think as a result of Evan's "persuasion." I would have hung up, but I wanted to be able to tell by the person's rate of breath if they were going to rush into the house.

They hung up as I was halfway through my rounds of windows.

I noticed that I was right about Ian. He was asleep in the lazy-boy chair in the den, obviously unable to wait up for me. I decided that I wasn't all that eager to sleep upstairs, so I finished checking the windows and doors and changed into some clean pajamas in the laundry room and joined Ian in the den, pulling the afghan on the back of the couch on top of me.

I went to sleep thinking that now I was going to be on my own, I might want to consider getting a dog, a nice big mean looking one. A Rottweiler would be good.

I'd name him Reilly.

* * *

**AN: **Jon McLaughlin's song So Close seemed perfect for these two. Check out the lyrics, if you're interested.

Anywho, **thank you**, my faithful readers, for sticking with this incredibly long story. I'm curious to know what your favorite quote or part of the story is so far : )


	48. Chapter 47 Drifting

Chapter 47 – Drifting

Prom was the beginning of a series of parties. The Stefanos threw one for Maggie. Mrs. Graham threw one for Emilee, partially to celebrate her daughter's academic achievement and partially to continue her celebration of winning the election. Max's family hosted one in his honor as well. There were a few others, but I declined those invites. My life was hectic enough as it is without me gallivanting about with people I barely knew.

I had to prepare for the deluge of relatives that was about to descend upon our household. Most of the relatives who had come in the fall were returning, but with the added addition of my mother and Mark. These two are what had me and Ian the most worried. Ian, because he wanted to show my mother that he had done right by their little girl in these past few months, despite my numerous hospital visits; and me, because, well, Gabby would just know that not everything was all right, and unlike Ian, she would not be giving me any space about it.

I loved my mother dearly, and usually we were able to talk about everything; but I had gotten into the habit of keeping secrets from her that now I was afraid to tell her even one without all of them tumbling out. I couldn't tell her or anyone about my new mystery caller because, for one, it would worry her and, for two, Evan would know.

And there was no effing way I was going to tell him. Not when we had reached a decision to go our separate ways. If I told him that there was another crazy stalker, he might think I had made it up in order to keep him with me. I have my pride and self-respect to protect. I was not going to be seen as a pathetic rejected girlfriend.

I also had my heart to protect. I had thought about this a lot, especially after the second and third calls. If I told him _and_ he believed me, he would stay, but he wouldn't be my Evan. He would just be my cold and very distant bodyguard. He wouldn't be the person that I needed, the person who would comfort me when I had nightmares, of which lately I have had far too many, usually featuring some version of the Dream.

I knew Evan. I could see him resolving himself to sticking to his part of the bargain of not being my boyfriend, or even friend, and deciding to do his ninja guarding thing and stay hidden, watching in the shadows until the threat had disappeared and then vanishing himself, leaving me alone again.

I also knew myself and my limits. There was no way my heart could take that. Having him that close but unapproachable would be agonizing beyond imagination. I wanted to gouge out my eyes just picturing it.

So, I'm taking the risk of dealing with this on my own. I am never alone in the house. I hang out late at the shop, or I stay at the Cullens' place, hanging out with everyone and hardly ever being alone with Evan, until I know Ian is home. I bought a tape recorder for the times when Psycho No. 3 calls me while Ian is asleep or in another room, and I'm hoping that this will all stop when I leave town after graduation. If it doesn't, I plan on telling the authorities then with the tape-recorded evidence. It's not a very good plan, but it's all I have, ironically, thanks to Evan's chivalrous streak.

It's this secret and the resentment towards the necessity of it that has caused a widening of the rift between Evan and me. And it is only getting wider every day as the both of us resent its increase but feel helpless to do anything about it. This is what I want to talk to my mother about the most, but the thing that I can't because then I'd have to lie to her to explain why the rift is there in the first place, and _that_ would be disastrous, because she would see right through it.

My solution to all this inner turmoil? Clean like mad, worry about sleeping arrangements for guests like mad, hang out with friends and deal with their issues like mad, and get ready to leave like mad. Basically, I'm working myself into a hysterical meltdown, and Evan won't be there to catch me.

Regan and Maggie were the ones who came to my rescue concerning my mother. It was yet another sunny Saturday, and we were raiding Maggie's closet to find an outfit for graduation. It had to be something that she deemed as "her" and would not purse her grandmother's lips or adversely affect her generosity.

"How about the strapless sundress you wore for the benefit concert?" Regan suggested again.

"We already talked about that one, and it was nixed because it would show the tattoo," Maggie reminded her.

She shrugged and then asked, "What if you were a sweater with it? You know, one of those little ones?"

Maggie dug through her closet and found one that might work and hastily tried the two of them on. Turning to us, she asked, "So what do you think?"

Regan and I grimaced, shaking our heads, before I informed her reluctantly, "Sorry, Mags, but it doesn't cover it up all the way, especially after your new haircut."

Stripping, she ground out frustratedly under her breath, "Ugh! Why does it have to be so hard? Relatives are such a freaking hassle!"

"Tell me about it," I muttered under my breath.

This caught their attention.

So shocked was Maggie that she stopped in the middle of putting her shirt on to ask me with a muffled voice, "What _are_ you talking about?"

Regan got up and helped straighten our friend out, sharing a smirk with me before seconding quizzically, "Yeah, Ian is like every teenage girl's dream dad, loving and supportive but not too nosy…What did you do to change that?"

I let out a small laugh that was just short of hysterical, before clarifying simply, "Not Ian – my mother."

"Oh," Maggie said, but looking to Regan for help because apparently that was too simple of an explanation.

Regan shrugged and bluntly ordered, "Elaborate, Cadence Darby. Because as far as we know you like your mother too."

I collapsed backwards on the bed and stared up at the ceiling, searching for a way to explain this without going into detail about Evan's and my issues. Recalling Eddie's lessons in bluffing during a poker game, I decided on the strategy of giving them a small glimpse and then running with their assumptions, so I finally said, "I _do_ love my mother. It's just that…it's Evan...and me…She'll wanna know…and I don't have answers…"

"What is going on between you and Evan? I mean, you two don't seem to be all that close any – Ow!"

Maggie was cut off by a pillow that Regan had thrown at her. Rolling her eyes, she explained exasperatedly, "Of course, their not close, you dolt. He's going to the States for school and leaving her."

"Thanks," I muttered.

Maggie looked at her horrified and outraged, "I'm the dolt? You don't just casually say things like that!" Turning to me, she attempted to reassure me, saying, "I'm sure he's not leaving you. It will only be for a few years, and his family has loads of money so he can visit more frequently…"

Not really wanting to discuss Evan's and my fictional issues, I smiled gratefully, and said, "Thanks, I know that, Maggie. I'm more concerned about the immediate issue of my mother. Any words of wisdom on that pressing dilemma?"

"Oh that's easy," Regan dismissively waved.

Maggie nodded her head vigorously, "Yep."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, you have like all of your dad's family and friends' family coming into town too, right?" Regan asked casually.

"Yeah," I agreed, "So?"

They looked at each other as if they couldn't believe that it wasn't able to make the obvious connection. Maggie sighed, and then grinned conspiratorially at me as she slowly explained, "Cadie, that means _lots_ and _lots_ of people. People who your mother has not seen in ages. People who will want to talk to your mother or people who will want to tell stories of the good old days back when she was a kid here just like you. It's the perfect distraction. Use it to your advantage."

"Oh," I breathed. It could work… "What if she sees right through it? I mean you haven't met my mother. She puts Emily the Fashion Inquisitor to shame."

Regan shrugged, saying, "So what if she does? She'll probably retreat and wait for when you come home and won't have the advantages of power in numbers."

I made a face at that unappealing prospective.

Maggie leaned forward and patted my knee, comforting with, "Don't worry too much about that, Cadie. By then you'll have an answer for her, right?"

I gave her a hopeful smile and lied, "Probably."

We then returned to her dilemma, finally deciding that she was going to have to wear the less colorful dress her mom had originally suggested and creatively spice it up with accessories. Alice would have been so proud of me.

* * *

I took their advice to heart and avoided any nerve-racking conversations with my mother; unless of course, one counted the weepy "My little girl is all grown up!" one that mothers like her usually have with their daughters on special events such as this.

She had me in a mama bear death grip for the longest time after I entered the den ready to go to graduation. I implored Ian and Mark helplessly over her shoulder, while those who hadn't left yet laughed, but all they did was just look at each other, unhelpfully nudging the other one to come to my rescue. Finally, Ian pulled her off, wryly commenting, "Okay, Gabriella, leave the bone crushing to Tink."

She stepped back and wiped her tear-filled eyes, and then retorted, "Just you wait, Ian Darby. One of these days she's going to be walking down a church aisle all in white and you'll be the one that will have to be pried off her, weeping buckets, no doubt."

Ian grunted, "Not if Cadie's little friend Nessie and that Alice girl have anything to say about it."

Old Tink laughed heartily at that, and Zach, who had just entered from the kitchen with my now charged camera, let out a low whistle of amusement.

At my mother's and cousin Beatrice's confused expressions, Sukey explained, "Alice and Nessie are Evan's foster sisters and Cadie's wardrobe fairy godmothers. They wouldn't let Ian anywhere near her dress, not even Tink could get passed them."

They nodded their heads in dawning comprehension, and my mother turned to me with a look that did not bode well for my plans of not going anywhere near this topic of conversation.

Zach, however, came to my rescue like the hero he is, and interjected, "Hey Cadie! Say 'I like gouda!'" Then after making yet another reference to his favorite celebrity he took a quick candid shot with my camera that caught everyone by surprise and distracted them beautifully.

We left not too long after that, but were still late. So when I got to the school, I had to hastily get into line behind Edward and Alice Cullen. The former gave me a brief smile in welcome, and the latter gave me a quick appraisal before nodding in approval in my wardrobe choice. It was only until after all the pomp and circumstance was I able to talk to Evan, and even then I wasn't able to give him a proper hello because my mother and her husband were right behind me.

"Evan, you remember my mother and Mark?" I inquired after a brief peck on his cheek.

He nodded in assent before offering his hand in greeting. Fortunately, it was cloudy and cold enough that it was understandable that his hands were abnormally cold to the touch. He commented dryly, "Thankfully, it is under better circumstances."

My mother laughed, completely under his charming spell, "Yes, it is, and I suppose, I have you to thank for that."

This comment caught both of us by surprise, and I blurted, "Umm…Mother…what are you talking about?"

She pshawed, and explained, "Only that ever since you started dating this young man you haven't been to the hospital since, lovey."

Evan's tawny eyes lit up at the irony of that, and he looked at me mischievously to see my reaction.

Not wanting to disappoint, since he hadn't been like this in awhile, I overdid it a little and rolled my eyes, protesting, "_Mumsy darling_, I'm sure that is just a coincidence. I am not the perpetual damsel-in-distress that you make me out to be. I'm sure that it was just a streak of bad luck that has run its course."

She groaned at that, "I let you come to live with Ian, and all the lessons that I teach you fly out the window. If you are going to make remarks like that, please, make sure you have wood to knock on or salt to throw over your shoulder, Cadie."

"Yes, Mum," I agreed quietly, and then to Evan I said, "The family wants to take me out to dinner and stuff, do you mind if I don't see you until later?"

He nodded and gave me a brief gentle side-hug before going to join his family.

I watched him leave regretting what was happening to us. Before the Great Divide, he would have waggled his eyebrows like Emmett and said some roguishly suggestive remark in a thick Irish accent for my amusement/embarrassment and my mother's horror. I would have been confident that he would swing by in his great big gas guzzling truck to save me from my overcrowded house or to sneak into my room through my window to make sure I wasn't going all squirrelly. Now, I'm not sure when "later" will be or even if there will be one tonight.

Maybe I'm wrong, and this relationship never had the possibility of forever. Maybe, it was time that I admitted that it was only meant to be one of those highly memorable "first love" experiences. Maybe, it was time that I recognized the truth: I was the only one who was doing the pursuing.

And it takes two to tango.

My musings were interrupted by my cell phone vibrating. I answered it without checking the ID, thinking that it was Ian asking what was taking us so long, "Hello?"

"Hello, Cadie. Are you enjoying your night?" inquired Raspy Voice Psycho No. 3.

Quickly maneuvering my body so that no one could see my face, I answered very carefully, "It's all right. Thanks for asking…?"

"Tsk. Tsk. How disappointing. If I was you, I would make the most of this auspicious day. One never knows if one will reach the next life milestone." There was a harsh bark of laughter, and the decided click of the call's disconnection.

I stood there for a little bit trying to control my breathing as well as trying not to think panicky thoughts in case Edward was tuning into my frequency. I managed to do so just in time before Zach raced up and grabbed my arm, asking impatiently, "Are you coming?"

I nodded and followed him through the crowd, thinking wryly to myself that I was _so_ changing my number when I got back to Quebec.

* * *

I went out with my family that night and then crashed as soon as I got home. Relatives were tiring but wonderful distractions. Zach was an even better distraction as he had this amazing ability to fold napkins into uncanny resemblances of pontificating personages such as second cousin Reggie or Great Aunt Martha.

I didn't see Evan again until a few days later when most of my guests had left, including Mark. My mother was staying behind to help me pack up the last of my things and ship them back to her house. I was leaving a few things behind; _Dracula_, for one, and the Hearse, for another. Sentimental reasons, both, but I wanted Ian to know that I planned to visit him frequently.

Evan and I were sitting out on the balcony overlooking the fountain that never ceases to fascinate me, when he casually remarked, "So Nessie tells me that you finally decided where in Europe you were going to visit…"

"Yep," I agreed, not elaborating.

"Weren't you there when we talked about it?" I asked when it finally dawned on me that he shouldn't have needed to ask in such a roundabout manner.

He shook his head sadly, "You must have me confused with Zach, because according to the image Nessie showed me, you were at the garage."

"And you haven't been there with me recently…" I added, allowing for the depressing reality that his explanation was entirely too likely.

"So where did you decide to go?" he asked gently, trying to lift my seemingly permanent morose spirits.

It worked because it was impossible for me not to become instantly excited about something that I had for years been so stoked for. So smiling, I answered, "Just some of the major art cities of the Renaissance: London, Paris, Venice, Rome, and Florence."

"All beautiful places," he commented circumspectly, "But I wish you wouldn't go to Florence."

This drew me up short, and all I could do was stare at him bamboozled-like with my mouth slightly open in incredulity. I couldn't fathom what possible reason that he could have to ask me such a thing, especially since he knew that was the one city in all the world that I desired to see the most. Finally, I breathed out, "Why?"

He stared back at me coolly as he stated condescendingly and with finality what was obvious to him, "The Volturi."

"The Volturi," I repeated dumbfoundedly, trying to follow his logic and failing. "The Volturi don't hunt people in their area. I know Florence is close to where they live, but wouldn't that actually mean I was safer?"

He sighed exasperatedly, "No, Cadie, it wouldn't. You'd be a tourist, a lone tourist. Nobody would miss you if you disappeared. So you'd be precisely one of those people that are their prime targets."

I took a moment to digest all this, weighing the risks against the benefits. I understood his concern, but…

"I see where you are coming from, Evan. I really do," I prefaced. "But I'm going to be a forewarned tourist, who will be able to recognize the signs and take necessary precautions, such as no wandering on my own at night and traveling only on sunny days and such. The likelihood of me crossing their paths is slim to none."

"With your luck, I wouldn't count on it," he groused.

I'm not sure what about that comment set me off, but it did and I lashed out, "That's it! Evan, I'm going with or without your blessing! You want me to live my life? Fine. This is me living my life. You no longer have a right to ask or tell me how to live it. Not even if I want to take up extreme sports, where the chances of my neck breaking increases at least ten-fold. Not even if I decide to try out the party scene at university. Not even if I want to go to Europe, especially Italy, where the largest non-vegetarian vampire coven lives. You. Don't. Get. A. Say."

By now I was glaring at him, chest heaving, and all red in the face. I probably looked ridiculous, but I didn't care. I was so fed up with his desire "to have his cake and eat it too." It was unfair, patriarchal, and demeaning.

Evan looked at me with mixed emotions for the briefest of moments, going from shock to fear to pain to anger and then finally to resignation, before he sighed, nodding in acquiescence.

"You're right, of course."

"Damn straight, I am." I interjected rebelliously.

"Damn straight, you are," he teased, but his heart wasn't even half in it.

We drifted off into an awkward silence that was an audible manifestation of what our relationship had become, only to be briefly interrupted by his softly spoken plea, "Cadie, just consider my request, all right?"

"Sure, sure," I replied with a forced lopsided grin before settling back and fixing my gaze on the fountain again.

Both of us knew that this only meant that I would contemplate the opportunity to do the safe thing long enough to wave at it as it passed me by. I may not be an excessive gambler like Emmett, but I was a person who firmly believed that a life without risk and sacrifice was a life not worth living.

If Evan couldn't accept that about me, well, it would certainly explain a lot of things.

My morose mood was slowly shifting into a more philosophical and contemplative one until Evan asked –

"So where are we meeting up?"

It was my turn to freeze, not ready for this topic of conversation, for it signaled the end. I finally expressionlessly asked, "You mean like _The Meeting_?"

"That be the one," he affirmed.

I suppose, this is when I should have suggested some significant, if not romantic, spot that we shared. If not that, then at least I could have demurred and asked his opinion. However, I did none of these things. I couldn't.

I tried, but the very thought of the import of that meeting, the reasoning behind it, and all that it entailed was just too much. I was tired of it all. So very tired. So I simply said –

"There isn't going to be one."

* * *

**AN: **Drama, drama, drama : )

Next chapter title - Bits and Tokens

If you love/hate this chapter, _if you have this story as your favorite_, if you wish to acknowledge that you caught the Capt. Jack Sparrow quote - Review! Por favor ; )


	49. Chapter 48 Bits and Tokens

Chapter 48 – Bits and Tokens

"There isn't going to be one?" Evan inquired slowly.

"Nope."

"Why ever not?"

I took a moment to organize my thoughts. I wanted to answer him as unemotionally as possible as that seemed to be his preferred method of interacting with me.

Eventually, I responded with, "Because I have tried to imagine what that meeting would look like, how I would want it to be, and I just can't help feeling that I'll be waiting in vain – "

"You don't think I'll come?" he asked, with a little bit of hurt seeping through his cool façade.

I smiled at him gently, reassuring, "No, I do believe you'll come. You are too honorable not to keep your promise. But what I do fear is that you'll be there like you are now – aloof and cold. You won't be the Evan that I have come to love. You'll be that Keegan guy that I knew before … before I discovered your secret and you let me in…"

I drifted off again, thinking, and then out loud, I mused, "Or maybe that Evan has never been real, just my imagination. The true you has always been the one who I have fought against every step of the way…"

"What if both of those are me?" he interjected quietly.

I laughed and raised my eyebrows at him, "You're saying that I have fallen for a schizophrenic vampire?"

He smirked, partially amused, but his voice dripped with regret as he suggested, "Or at least one that suffers from multiple personality disorder."

"They call that disassociative identity disorder now," I corrected bemusedly.

Continuing after a brief pause, I explained, "Whatever the case may be, Evan, I'm tired. I'm tired of trying to force this relationship with someone who can't find in his heart to love me enough to overcome his better judgments. I don't want someone who loves me kicking and screaming the whole time, wishing that they weren't. It's kind of a buzz kill, and I deserve more."

More strongly, I asserted, "So, I'm renegotiating our bargain in your favor. You have three years. I will live my life to the fullest as you requested, but you are free to think of me, or not. If you do and you change your mind, you can come find me. However, you will only have those three years, and then I'm moving on. It's all on you. I won't be the one responsible for our relationship to be the broken bits that it is now."

With that I got up and patted his shoulder and left. I just couldn't do it anymore.

* * *

I sat there in disbelief and unsure how to process what just happened. I had experienced the growing distance between us just like she had. I had in fact encouraged it a little so that it would be easier on her to say goodbye.

Apparently, it had worked all too well.

I watched her drive off in her unique and very colorful vehicle, still bewildered at what had just transpired, when the voices of my family drifted up to me unbeknownst to them.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. Quit looking at me with those know-it-all puppy dog eyes, Mutt," Emmett grumbled.

As I faintly detected the sound of money being exchanged, I could picture Jake's answering smirk.

"I was so sure that she had it in her to outlast him."

"Chin up, kiddo. I was sure she did too. Obviously," Emmett encouraged Nessie. "She has such spunk. She sure gave it to him there."

"Yep, she definitely called him out on his bull," Nessie proudly agreed.

"Nessie," Rosalie chimed in, suddenly, "Evan is only doing what all of us would do if we were in his position. No one wants this life for their loved one."

"You did and so did Carlisle," Nessie challenged.

"That was different, Renesmee. All of us were dying," Esme corrected gently.

There was a momentary silence as Nessie seemed to be digesting that piece of information. Jacob interrupted it with the remark, "Besides, Nessie, Cadie knew all along that they were going to part ways. She said it herself."

"Yeah, but that was before he got all wishy-washy," she protested. "'I am going to avoid her,' and then 'We're just friends,' to 'it only be for while she's here because I just can't seem to help myself.' How was she to know that it wouldn't turn out differently than she initially predicted?"

"Evan made his stance and his limits for their relationship quite clear. She knew what she was getting into," Jasper added his two-cents, and by the sound of Nessie's loud sigh, it was definitely not appreciated.

"Okay, fine. He made his stance clear, in your opinion, and fine, you all respect his decision," Nessie acknowledged acrimoniously. "But why are you all so sure that he is right?"

"Because we're monsters," Edward asserted with all the self-loathing that he and I and most of the rest of the family felt.

"But we're not, Dad. We're sparkly super-carnivores. Pansies by most people's concepts of vampires and even viewed that way by most of our own kind," she responded with some slight self-directed irony. "Anyways, my point was that Cadie _wants_ this life. Evan wouldn't be taking her life. He would be giving her the one she wanted."

"You're a romantic, Nessie. Not everything that we want is good for us," Jake countered over Emmett's protest of being called a pansy. "She'd be giving up her life. She'd never be able to see her family or friends again. She needs to find a less heartbreaking 'bend-in-the-road.'"

I couldn't help thinking to myself, "Bad move, buddy," as I heard Nessie hiss indignantly at Jake's frank dismissal of her argument. The lad, clearly, had a lot to learn.

"A romantic? I probably am. Did I have high hopes for Cadie and Evan? I still do, but my point had more to do with the issue of my friend's will and desire being ignored more than the actual outcome," she declared with annoyance. "Before there were airplanes and other speedy modes of transportation, women faced this decision of choosing to stay with their family or to marry and follow the man they loved clear across the country or across an ocean or even to the other side of the world. Most never saw their families again even if they lived through the arduous journey and rarely communicated with them. How is this all that different?"

"Because she _dies _and then wants to kill and drink other people's loved one's blood," Jacob growled out with frustration.

"Mom turned out okay, and if Cadie decides that she can live with the consequences and the risk, why shouldn't her request be found acceptable?"

"Isn't that why they had their little agreement to begin with? So that Cadie could think about the consequences from all angles and then make her decision?" Bella interjected, in an attempt to restore harmony, but still with a slight tinge of disapproval seeping through, showing that she shared a similar opinion as her daughter.

"Yes," Nessie acknowledged with a sigh, "But all I'm saying is that Evan and you all should consider her point of view too."

"We know, Nessie," Esme reassured. "And you are a good friend for standing by her."

"Thanks."

"You know, she has a point."

"What the hell!" I blurted and jumped at the unexpected chirping of Alice's voice.

She danced her way over, commenting, "If you hadn't been so busy trying to eavesdrop on a conversation that no one would have minded you partaking in, you would have heard me approaching. I was humming, you know."

"Huh," I grunted.

"And before you ask me," she continued – doing that annoying thing she does of responding to things that have not yet been said or asked – "I can't see what her life will be like if she does go on to a normal life, nor can I see what her life will be like if she becomes one of us. I've tried, and she's like white noise to me."

"Huh," I said after a moment, and not wanting to sound ungrateful, I added sincerely, "Thanks, I guess, Alice."

She smiled kindly and replied, "No problem, Evan."

She started to head back into the house, but stopped to add, "Evan?"

"Yeah?"

"No matter what you decide, this family will support you and your decision. That's the kind of people they are."

I nodded, "I know. And Alice?"

She smirked, "Yeah, I know. I am too."

Then she went inside, humming once again, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

* * *

_Blood. There's blood everywhere. _

_The Ivory Tower is stained with it. _

_The Eyrie, Evan's and my spot, our spot, is desecrated with it – the message. It's always the same._

_The Cullens' house is no longer a white and stone masterpiece, but a jagged crimson wreck. The charred remains of the second floor are still smoking, and the iron pillars are all twisted and bent out of shape. The glass windows are all broken, and the door is hanging off the hinges. As I make my way reluctantly inside through the gaping doorway, I note that it resembles a grotesque bloody mouth that is intent on swallowing me whole._

_Inside, the furniture, the piano, and the cello are all demolished. The fireplace is no more. It is just a pile of rubble, and like the figurines in the fountain, the heads of my painting, are all made to be unrecognizable._

_Death, destruction, and the message, always the message, written in bloody gore on the walls: _I'm coming for you.

Thankfully, when I saw that message, my heart stopped, causing my brain to scream for oxygen and thus, restoring consciousness, long before I got to the point of seeing bodies or pieces of them like I usually do.

Once I had begun again those activities that are so vital for my existence (but for which I so desperately wished were otherwise), I thought about whether or not I should rethink my decision not to tell anyone about the nightmares or the phone calls. But then, I realized that despite the increased intensity and frequency of my nightmares, I did not regret the decision that I had made about Evan's and my rendezvous or lack there of. In the daylight and waking hours, I felt freer and in control. It might be the kind of delusional sense of control that a condemned person feels in being able to choose his/her method of execution, but it helped me to at least fall asleep at night.

I also realized what day it was.

My heart nearly stopped beating again.

This was it. This was the day. All week I had been saying goodbye, but the coward that I am wouldn't let me say it to anyone's faces. As a result, I would drive over to their work or home while they were not there and leave them a letter that I had written.

Except for the Cullens.

For one reason, I expected to see everyone else again, but the Cullens, not so much. For another, I just knew that Nessie would come after me if I tried to pull a stunt like that. It was just better to get this horrible moment over with minus the entire inevitable harangue.

I drove the Hearse up to their house for one final time, parked it out front for a quick get away, grabbed my stack of letters, and with a quick self-pep talk marched myself into the house. I had a letter for everyone, even Rosalie. After all, she did risk her and Emmett's life during the whole Draven Brac mess.

In Esme's letter I told her how much I appreciated her motherly kindness, especially since my mother was so far away, and thanked Carlisle for his patience and guidance for both Evan and me. So many of our fears and worries were put at ease because of his words of wisdom.

I thanked both Jake and Emmett for their friendship, support, and humor (Jake for his dry wit and Emmett for his audacity) amidst all the craziness. I expressed my gratitude for Edward and Bella's wonderful gift of Nessie, if not for them I wouldn't have been blessed with a friend whom I could call sister. I thanked Alice for all that she had done, referring not only to the dresses but to the things that I'm sure I would never know that she had done on my behalf. I thanked Jasper for trusting me with his family and promised that I would not let him down.

As for Nessie, I wrote her a huge long mushy letter, filled with sisterly-affection, detailed sketches to illustrate my points and enhance the walk down memory lane, and a final request.

Finally, in Evan's letter, I simply wrote, "I love you" in all the languages that I knew that essential phrase in. Cheesy and sappy, I know, but nothing more needed to be said.

It was a bit awkward making these farewells, because Nessie and Emmett made a big production of it and even Esme was a little dramatic as she gave me one of her rare, very cautious hugs. What was worse, however, was everyone's watching me and Evan or pretending not to watch me by staring at a wall or something outside.

When I realized that their doing so was an attempt to give Evan and me privacy, I finally turned my attention to him completely.

I almost wish I hadn't because his eyes were dark with pain and longing and yet he made no move towards me.

I stepped forward and gave him quick kiss on the cheek, which seemed to be the impetus that he needed as he grabbed me by the shoulders and turned the quick peck into a toe-curling and slightly lingering kiss.

When it ended, I stepped back to look at him, but the pain and the longing were still there. Still not wanting to say goodbye, I wished, "Au revoir."

And then I dashed out telling myself all the while not to expect him to come after me and chase me.

* * *

It's been three weeks. I've been at home with my mother, and he still hasn't come.

Surprise, surprise.

I don't care right of this moment though, because presently I'm on my way to London.

"Now dear, don't be telling people that you are traveling alone or where you are staying. I don't care if they seem to be the nicest of old ladies. You just can never know these days. Be sure to call me as soon as you land – "

"Yes, Mom, of course, I will – call that is. I won't divulge any private information, and I promise to find the embassy first thing."

"She'll be fine, Gabby. She's a smart kid; you raised her right," Mark cut in. "Where do you want to be dropped off at, Cadie?"

I looked up and checked my surroundings, furiously scanning the signs to find my airline. "Door number 3," I answered, once I got my bearings.

"The one after the next one?"

"Yeah," I confirmed.

He pulled up to the curb, and I hopped out pulling out my large duffel bag with me. It was the only piece of luggage I was bringing, if one didn't count my purse. My mother got out to and looked at me, commenting, "I still don't know how you do it."

"Do what?" I asked semi-curiously.

"She's talking about the fact that you can manage to pack so light," Mark informed me as he leaned down to give me a peck on the cheek.

I laughed, teasing, "Yes, it is one of the many evidences that I am indeed Ian's daughter."

Gabby protested, "I'm not that bad!"

Mark and I looked at each other, looked at her, and then shrugged, deciding not to go there.

"Bye, Mom," I said, giving her one last final squeeze before swinging my bag over my shoulder and heading into the airport. I walked through the doors, turned around and waved one final time, and then set off on my new adventure.

I only managed to take three more steps before I had to pause to look around and find the correct ticket counter in the madhouse around me. There was a surge of people headed towards the escalators that I was standing near, all of them rather tall and difficult to see around. It was because of them that I didn't see the middle aged woman in the bright purple beanie hat and psychedelic scarf until it was too late.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, ma'am! Are you alright?" I asked as I hurriedly bent down to help her gather her bags back that our collision had knocked out of her hands.

"It's fine, dearie. It's partially my fault. Are you alright?" she replied with a deep scratchy voice as if she was struggling with a persistent cold.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I quickly reassured.

She stopped fiddling with her bags to look me over, as if the speed of my reply caused her to doubt my sincerity. I must have passed her examination, because she sighed and stated, "I'm not normally so clumsy. I should have been paying closer attention, but I was so worried about my mother … I'm glad you are okay."

"I am," I asserted again hoping to find a gracious way to move on so that I could find my ticket counter. The clock over her shoulder displayed in large red numbers 4:18pm. My plane left a little after six, and I had to get through bag check-ins and the security line still.

She patted my arm and said, "Good, good. I'm glad of that dearie. But do you think you can do me a favor?"

I bit my lip to avoid sighing in disappointment at the withering hope of a quick get away.

She sensed my hesitation and rushed on, "Oh! I'm not asking much. Just a trifle token really. My mother is in the bathroom, and I was just wondering if you could go and tell her that I'm just waiting for her outside those doors over there." She gestured to them, continuing, "I would go and get her myself, but as you can see maneuvering these bags as a difficult thing to do…"

My hope died. She looked so overwhelmed with her ridiculous amount of baggage that seemed, by the way she referred to it, to be her mother's, and because I could sympathize greatly with her plight, I resigned myself to a slight detour in my grand adventure. So I nodded in agreement, assuring that it would be no problem at all, (it wasn't really as I had been dropped off early enough that I was in no danger of missing my flight), and then asked for a description of her mother.

I proceeded swiftly to the indicated ladies' restroom, receiving dirty looks from all the women that I bypassed on my way in, and as I rounded the corner, I tripped over a wheelchair that was placed haphazardly in the way. I was wondering over the absurdity of its placement, while I righted it and moved it to a more inconspicuous location, when I saw out of the corner of my eye a bright purple beanie hat.

That was the last thing I saw or comprehended before everything went white around the edges - then blurry - and then black.

* * *

**AN: **Soundtrack for this chapter: "In Pieces" by Linkin Park

This 'poor, unfortunate soul' will have her story continued soon. I promise. : )


	50. Chapter 49 Black, White, and Red

Chapter 49 – Black, White, and Red

_Dear Evan,_

_I wish that my last letter really was my last. Maybe it is, and you will never see this. But if you are reading this that means that after a few weeks post my departure, you are being an insufferable git. Nessie and the others can't stand your miserable arse wallowing in self-pity any longer and are too kind to say so just yet to your face, so I'm to do it via letter. So…_

Stop! You have made your bed. Now lie in it!

_Unless of course, you have changed your mind and want me enough after all…?_

_Huh, guess not. You know, I don't understand why you are acting this way (but apparently, I understand you enough to know that you will). You should be happy! I'm safe. I'm living my normal happy life just like you wanted. You did the noble, chivalrous, and self-sacrificing thing, and stuck with it. There is no reason for you not to take some satisfaction from that, and enjoy your family. They're a great group of people._

_But for some reason, you do, and foolishly I have tried to figure that part of you out. The conclusion that I have come to is that your dumbass pride is the root cause of it all. Your pride was wounded when Eliza rejected you, and this same pride was restored to its former magnificence when I came along to adore you in my freakish way. This same pride, however, could not tolerate the thought of you acting in a manner that would demean youreself in your own eyes, so it had you send me away. This was made easier for you by the knowledge that some part of me would always carry a torch for you. But your "noble" plan worked too well, and it appears that I don't hold you in such high esteem, so now you wallow in a state of utter wretchedness._

_If this is true, it not only sucks to be you, but even more so it sucks to be your family. For their sakes', I beg of you – swallow your pride and move on and live just as you have asked me too. Not many people get the second chances that you have._

_I also recognize that pride is not something to look down upon. You do love me in your own way, and expressing that love is to be as selfless as possible. I don't understand it since the result of that is the realization of my greatest fear: abandonment, but I have come to see that if you were to give in and make me forever yours, our future would become tainted with your feelings of guilt. You would lose an important piece of who you are by being with me._

_I can't have that. So you are free. I'm letting you go. Along with this letter, Nessie was to give you a box. It contains all my sketches of you._

_Adieu,_

_Cadie R. Darby_

I crumpled up the letter and threw it towards the far corner of the tower and then shoved the half-opened box of sketches away from me. Expressing my frustrations in this way didn't help my foul mood any, since the magnificent sunset that I was currently glowering at only reminded me of Cadie and how much she would have wanted to paint it. Her absence, yes, was my fault, but the "satisfaction" that I was supposed to get from such an accomplishment was, as I had come to find out, hollow.

"Evan, what's wrong?"

I looked back to see a concerned Esme standing in the very corner where I had tossed the letter. It had, in fact, landed at her feet. This was just further proof at how self-absorbed I had become – I had not even seen her or heard her approach.

I sighed and gestured towards the letter, "Cadie wrote me."

"And sent you something," she observed as she bent down to pick up the crumpled epistle.

"Yeah," I acknowledged. "It's all of her sketches of me."

Her eyebrows rose in astonishment, "She did that many?"

I looked at the 30 by 22 by 15 centimeters box, which must have been filled with at least three notebooks worth of paper, for a moment, and then commented wryly, "Yeah, it's a wonder her hand didn't fall off doing all that."

She smiled a little, and then asked me, "May I read it?"

I shrugged. It would be interesting to see what she thought of it. I could at least count on her not to cheer at its directives. Nessie would have. The girl couldn't seem to comprehend that I needed to mourn. It wasn't easy doing the right thing.

She smoothed it out and began to read it after carefully observing my expression. She didn't cheer, but nor did she let on what she was thinking, not even when she was finished. She simply set it gently aside and said, "She wrote me a letter too."

I shrugged again looking back towards the horizon. Cadie had made it very clear that she would continue her friendships with the other members of my family no matter what arrangement we had between us.

"It was about you," she softly stated causing my head to whip back around to face her. "She asked me not to give you the space you appeared to need. She seems to be under the impression that if I didn't invade your space a little, I might lose you. Was she right?"

"She's probably just hoping that you'll convince me to go after her. She wasn't too happy that Carlisle and Edward supported my decision when I talked to them," I replied bitterly.

"We all supported your decision, minus Nessie, of course," she corrected. "But, no, I think she truly has let you go so far as she's no longer hoping that you'll change your mind. What she can't seem to do is stop caring. According to her, 'that although he is technically over seventy years old,' you are still a 'man-boy' and need to be mothered now and then."

I snorted. It sounded just like Cadie.

Esme pressed on, "So was she right about me losing you?"

"No, that was one of the few things that she was wrong about," I reassured.

She digested that briefly, before asking, "So what else was she wrong about? The pride thing?"

"No, there is some truth to that," I grudgingly admitted. "At least some of that last part."

She thankfully did not deny it, but waited patiently for me to elaborate. I wonder if Cadie advised her on that too in her letter.

After struggling to find the right words to express myself, I gave up and finally growled out, "The problem is just …that she gave up! I didn't want her to let go."

"I thought that was the plan?" she asked confusedly.

"Not so soon! We had a deal. After two years of her exploring normal life, spending time with her family, meeting new people, figuring out what she wanted, being her own person, we would meet somewhere and we would decide then. But by letting go like this … she's taken me out of the running completely…"

Esme wrapped her arms around me as soon as my voice broke with all the painful emotion that I had been keeping bottled up. When I got myself under control again, she said, "You know it wouldn't be fair to the competition if she did it any other way."

I snorted, "I've never cared about the 'competition.' I just wanted to make sure that I gave her every opportunity before I took it all from her. If she chose not to become one of us, I could have lived with that … because she would have been happy…"

"But now?"

"But now she'll never choose me because she's under the impression that I'm incapable of wanting her to. That it would destroy me somehow if she did choose that," I blurted despondently. "But that's where she's wrong," I continued more heatedly. "I would have hated myself for taking her humanity from her _now_, even though she offered it freely, because it would have been out of ignorance. I wanted her to love me…I _needed_ her to choose me knowing the full cost, having no regrets later. But a few years from now…"

"A few years from now, she won't be as young and inexperienced, and if she'll still have you…" Esme supplied with dawning understanding.

"Aye," I assented miserably, voicing my darkest fear, "If she'll still have me…"

"So go tell her that."

* * *

The first thing that I was aware of was the pounding in my head like a thousand Native American drums were being played simultaneously by a band of hard metal rock-loving gorillas. Normally, I don't like pain, but in the next moment I welcomed that sensation, because I then realized that I couldn't feel the rest of my body. The pain meant that I was alive, if potentially paralyzed.

"Oh lovely, you're awake," a female voice drawled with sickly sweet delight. "I was beginning to get worried. You've been out for half hour longer than you should have. It was only supposed to work for an hour. I must have estimated your weight wrong."

"Oomaruanwauan?" I mumbled, partially due to the gag and partially to my paralysis.

"What was that, dearie?" she crooned mockingly.

"Hoo naru en wa ua?" I struggled to enunciate clearly, annoyed that I was being toyed with on top of everything else.

"Oh, pardon me," my mystery warden chortled, causing my gorilla band to perform an unwanted spectacular encore. "Let me remove that, shall I?"

And then leaning in so that her face was in my field of vision, she ripped off the duct tape on my mouth and pulled out the rag that had been stuffed there. I briefly saw a pale face with a thin mouth, pointy nose, and angry dark eyes before I was sprayed with water.

"Aaagh!" I croaked.

"Open your mouth. This will help with the cotton ball sensation," I was curtly informed.

I did as instructed, and then just as I was going to try for a third time – _Slap!_ I was smacked across the face.

"Ouch! Wha was tha for?" I asked, still struggling to gain control over my tongue.

"That was to help with sensation. Now, what was it that you were trying to say?" the woman asked with mild curiosity as if nothing about this situation or her actions were abnormal.

Swallowing, I reiterated coherently this time, "I said – 'Who are you and what do you want?'"

My captor cloaked herself in the shadows again, before responding in an all too familiar raspy voice, "I am a survivor, and I seek restitution."

* * *

I charged into the house at full tilt, only slowing to make sure I didn't demolish the back door again, calling, "Nessie!" the whole time.

She was already in there waiting for me along. And she did not look happy.

"You want to chase after Cadie to tell her _what_ exactly?"

I sent glares in both Edward's and Alice's direction for having told her in advance what I wanted. Now I had lost the advantage of presenting my case in its best light. It of course did not affect either of them. Edward only looked back at me with a curious expression as if he too was wondering the answer to Nessie's question, and Alice just shrugged unapologetically.

"I need to clarify a few things," I began and then proceeded as best I could to explain my intentions, before asking, "So Nessie what is her flight information? I know she's leaving today."

"Uh-ah," she refused. "That is the most ridiculous thing ever, Evan! As Cadie's friend, you can't honestly expect me to let you intrude into her life again just to tell her that you love her but in two to three years she has to wait to be with you so that you don't feel guilty for doing so. That's bloody cruel. Either you go after her and say 'Be mine, forever' or you leave her alone!"

"Renesmee…"

My plea was cut off by Bella, who gently pointed out, "Nessie, I know your intentions are well-meant, but I don't think Cadie would appreciate you interfering in this way. Do you?"

After a moment of reluctant contemplation, she sighed and admitted, "No, she wouldn't," and then she quickly wrote down the information I needed and handed it to me.

Just as I took it from her, Alice stiffened abruptly, and then quietly said, "I'm sorry, Evan, but she won't be there."

"What do you mean?"

She concentrated, brows furrowed, before answering, "Just that when you get there, don't bother getting on a plane because you'll find out that she didn't either."

"What will I find?"

She grimaced at me, "It's Cadie we're talking about here. I won't know until you get there and start asking questions."

I nodded and turned to Edward, humbly asking "Will you go with me? I could use your special little gift for this, I think."

He nodded and said, "We'll take my car."

"I'll go too," Jasper volunteered. "I can pick up her emotions if she's nearby."

"Thanks, _mo __deartháir_," I responded appreciatively. "That could make finding her easier."

"Good luck," Esme called after us as we began to head for the door. "Emmett's going to wish that he and Rosalie did their hunting with the rest of us."

With that amusing thought, I nearly made it out the door with a grin on my face. But it was not to be as Alice let out an audible gasp.

We all turned to look at her expectantly, but she just shook her head as she gazed imploringly at Edward.

"What does she see, Edward?" I ground out anxiously.

"Red all over."

* * *

"You!" I groaned in surprise and despair.

"Yes, me," she cackled.

"Why?"

"To seek restitution," she repeated. "Honestly, I expected better from you, Cadie. After all, I was always told how smart and clever and what a good listener you were and so on and so forth. Live up to your reputation."

Shaking my head slowly to clear the last of the cobwebs, I noticed that I was strapped to a chair. A belt was tightly wrapped around my middle and the back of a cheap office chair, which was holding me upright, and my feet were tied by nylon cords to its legs. And in the place of my charm bracelet and watch, which were now securely stowed away in my bag, were shackles that bound my wrists together in my lap. They were also attached to a chain, which was looped to a ring bolted to the concrete floor roughly a meter away and then continued upwards out of my line of sight.

Unable to fathom the reason for my predicament, I eventually asked, "What did I ever do to you?"

This regrettably sent her off into a peal of high-pitched cackles, "What did you do to me? What did you do? Let me enlighten you!"

She began pacing then. I could tell, even though I could not see her very well in the dim light, because she was wearing heels that clicked-clacked loudly with every step she took, and their earsplitting clamor echoed in the vast space of wherever we were.

Finally her piercing rant began, "You existed! You caught the attention of my husband. You stole the love of my children! You intervened when it was none of your business! You showed no compassion, no mercy, you heartless conniving little bitch!"

This continued for sometime, but I tuned her out trying to figure out how this insane woman could possibly have any connection with me in the way she was accusing. Unless…the children she was referring to…No, it couldn't be. Could it?

"Vanessa?" I murmured incredulously.

"Yes! That has been what I've been saying this whole time hasn't it?" Vanessa questioned exasperatedly.

And then she reached up and pulled on a chord, turning on the light hanging overhead. It was a dramatic act, allowing me to see her and not much else. She was thin. Vanessa had always been thin as she obsessively dieted and exercised after both of her pregnancies, but now she was walking skeleton. Her long black hair that she had prided herself on and that Ty had admired was now short, bleach blond, and brittle, as if she had done a dozen hair color changes too many. She also had a scar on her left cheek.

So many questions tumbled through my mind that I could do naught but stare at her with mouth agape.

Finally, she asked, "I suppose you would like to hear my story? It is an interesting tale and worth the telling I can assure you, but rather long." She glanced at her watch, eyed me, and then pulling up a metal fold out chair that I had not seen, sat down, saying cryptically, "Well, we have time yet."

Speaking to herself, she murmured, "Where to start? Hmm…How about, oh, I guess, it was a little over five years ago, now, wasn't it?" She then came out of her introspection and considered me thoughtfully, saying, "You know, I never liked you, not even then. Tyrone hired you as a 'gift.' 'To help me out,' he said, like he thought I wasn't a good enough mother."

Recalling how tired and worn out she had been, when she came home from work after yet another long night at the office, kept there by her tyrant of a boss, I interjected, "I'm sure that's not what he thought. You were working late hours and so was he, and you needed a babysitter. That's all – "

"The company had a day care center!" she snapped, infuriated at the interruption of her narrative.

"Oh, it was very thoughtful of him, searching out the perfect babysitter for me," she sneered, as she continued. "We didn't need _you_. He could have picked them up from there after he got off work, when I couldn't. After all, he was always home before I was, except for when he was traveling. And when he was, he always made sure he talked with you – "

"About Lottie and Simon!" I protested.

"About _my_ kids!" she fired back, glaring at me so malevolently that I realized that it was folly to try to reason with her. When she saw that I wasn't going to say anything else, she continued, "You had a relationship with those kids that should have been mine! They called your name when they had nightmares, not mine, even after you had moved away. When the children were fussy and I couldn't get them calmed down, Ty would always say something along the lines of 'Try this; it works for Cadie.' Do you know how that made me feel? As a mother? A failure that's what! I should have known those things! Me! Not you!"

She was pacing again now, huffing as she got into full swing. It didn't hurt as much, but now my body was beginning to shiver as it became aware of the cold and my lack of a jacket and shoes. More menacingly, she declared, "Oh, I know what you are thinking. Don't deny it. I could have quit my job and stayed home with the kids, but I worked too hard for that job just to stake my claim on my kids against a little nobody like you. And what would I have done to support my kids after Ty left me? Huh? What do you have to say to that?"

She then jabbed me in the chest with her finger. I didn't know whether to be thankful for the fact that whatever drug she had used on me was wearing off and I could feel it or the fact that because of the drug I didn't feel it as much as I would have. Seeing that she did expect an answer this time, I started to apologize, "I'm sorry, Vanes – "

"Sorry? Oh yes, indeed. You shall be," she declared gleefully, and then continued her diatribe, attempting to somehow justify her downward spiral that led to her chasing her four year old son with a poker. I tuned her out, focusing more on the returning sensations of my lower body as it prickled painfully to life.

My attention was recaptured when her tale came to the point of her great escape. Apparently, there had been an honest to goodness accident, which is how she got her scar, and her chain buddy took advantage of it and managed to overpower the guards but not before one of them tossed the keys into the woods. Unable to free herself from her prison mate, Vanessa was taken along for the ride until they had ditched their pursuit, removed their shackles, and gotten a change of clothes. From there they parted ways, and Vanessa hitched rides with truckers and kind souls who were under the impression that she was running from an abusive and controlling husband.

"I eventually found out that Ty and the kids had moved and made my way there, and I found them," she stated with a mixture of both pride and bitterness. "There he was acting the good father, taking time away from his work to be with his kids, doting on them. All the things that he should have been doing before – " She shrugged, "They were so happy. Charlotte – I always hated that ridiculous nickname that Ty's mother and the rest of you persist on using – was babbling about her new room and all the stuff her father was doing to make it fit for a princess…And do you know who she wanted to tell first thing when it was all done?" She asked, skewering me with a look of hatred.

I shook my head no, prompting her to answer herself, "It was _you_. She was going on and on about how Ty needed to take pictures so she could show 'Cadie how pretty my room is!' and Simon was chanting your name over and over again as they went into their new home. That's the moment that my distinct dislike for you turned into passionate hatred," she concluded.

We sat there in silence as I tried to absorb all this and she examined her watch again. I realized then that I needed to keep her talking. It's what all damsels-in-distress do in moments like these, stalling for time in the hopes of being rescued. I highly doubted that this would be my fate as no one would miss me, but the more I prolonged this little tête-à-tête, the better my chances were of freeing myself. So I asked, "You've been planning this for over a year?"

She laughed, denying cheerfully, "Well, no. It took me a good long while to come up with this idea. I did, however, harass you on the phone a few times and trashed your room. Because that was so unsatisfactory, I began to look for alternative forms of torture."

"Wait! That was you?" I asked, surprised. "I thought that was…"

"Oh ho!" she crowed. "You have another nemesis? Whose life did you thoughtlessly ruin now?"

I grimaced, not at her question, but at the discomfort of having a very full bladder. Ignoring it, I replied, "Two of the more popular girls resented the fact that a few of their admirers had shifted their focus to me. They destroyed my prom dress in May of last year after resuming prank calling me, or so I thought."

"No, I didn't call you in May. I was busy trying to come up with the perfect scheme. You were always surrounded by people," she asserted with irritation. "I don't even know if that boy-toy of yours even sleeps."

"So how did you, come up with a 'perfect scheme,' that is?" I queried, not really wanting to discuss Evan's peculiarities with her.

She grinned like a Cheshire cat, "I added your friend Ashley to one of those social network things you teenagers are so fond of, and followed your comment threads. When she reported at the beginning of the year that she was not going to join you on your trip and wished you luck on your solo journey, I knew that this was my chance, and the plan just fell into place from there. It most certainly does not involve prom dress catastrophes." She paused, and then after carefully observing me, asked, "You have to go to the bathroom, don't you?"

I nodded, slightly disturbed by the barely hidden satisfaction she seemed to have at the fact. "What time is it?"

"A quarter after seven. There's a bucket that you can go in a few feet behind your chair," she gestured with a curt nod. "Now, I'm going to untie your feet and unfasten the buckle. No funny business, if you please."

I nodded again, not seeing how I could accomplish much while my hands were still chained and no key in sight.

After she had released me and stepped back, I slowly got up, testing my weight on my stiff legs, and letting circulation flow again throughout my lower limbs. Impatient, Vanessa growled, "Well, hurry it up. Neither your bladder nor I can wait all day!"

I snorted assent and shuffled to the indicated bucket, examining my surroundings, hoping to find something useful to aid in my escape. I couldn't see much, but I got the impression that we were in an abandoned warehouse. There seemed to be a vast emptiness to the place. It smelled of dust, rust, and mold. I could vaguely discern what looked to be metal walkways and the like hanging from the ceiling, but not much else. The windows, if there were any, must be covered in some way, because no sun- or moonlight entered in.

"Where are we?" I asked, once I was finished.

"No where in particular," she hedged, "But if you must know, this lovely establishment is an old abandoned factory that has recently been condemned and cleared out of the usual vagabonds." Pausing, she added with a nasty grin, "So no one will hear you."

I shivered not really wanting to believe what she was insinuating, but asked anyways, "Hear me?"

She chuckled and cryptically replied, "Yes, 'hear you' is exactly what I said. Now, sit down."

I hesitated then, very reluctant to come within her reach again, especially since I saw that she was preparing a syringe full of some unknown substance and was highly eager to jab it into me.

She saw my hesitation and barked, "Sit down!"

"Uh, I'd rather not," I asserted, gesturing to the needle. "What is that? And how do you get and afford all these drugs?"

"Internet and stolen credit cards of people with plausible reason to require them," she shrugged, avoiding the first question. "Now, sit down, _please_."

"Uh, no thanks," I refused with equally insincere courtesy, wondering how long this stand off would last. I couldn't run anywhere in particular, but I was young enough and fast enough to elude her for a little while, and maybe I could tackle her and knock her unconscious or something now that my body was responding to my commands.

She sighed and then from behind her back she pulled out a gun and fired.

* * *

**AN: **Gaelic to English translation of _mo __deartháir = my brother_

Kudos to those of you who guessed right on Psycho No. 3's identity ; )


	51. Chapter 50 World in Grey

**AN: **_Putain _is 'whore' or 'bitch' in French & _Tabarnac _is a French Canadian swear word that can mean 'shit,' 'damn,' or 'fuck.' Literally translated it means 'tabernacle.'

Feel free to choose whatever translation you deem appropriate for Cadie's current circumstances.

Soundtrack for this chapter and the last - 'Shadow of the Day' by Linkin Park.

Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 50 – World in Grey

_Putain! The crazy bitch shot me! Bloody hell! Bloody friggin' hell! _

It had all happened in slow motion. I saw her bring the gun around. I tried to move out of her line of sight, but it did no good. I heard the shot before I felt it. And felt it, I did. She had shot me in the left knee, and I was now face down on the ground, counting my blessings – in between cursing like a boy kicked in the gonads – grateful that I had already relieved my bladder.

The sounds of metal clanging and gear shifting overhead brought me out of my haze of pain. Looking around, I noticed that Vanessa had detached the chain from the floor and was now fiddling with a control box that had been hanging near the table by her chair. I wasn't sure exactly what it was for until I felt the chain lose slack and then a less than gentle tug at my wrists as I was dragged inexorably forward and up. It didn't stop until I was hanging with my toes just barely touching the ground.

Eyeing with disgust the trail of blood that was smeared behind me and then doing the same to me, she remarked irritably, "I wish you had just sat in the chair. It would have been so much easier on the both of us, if you had done as I asked." She then walked over from the table and forcefully stripped me of my jeans.

"_Tabarnac_!" I howled in agony.

"Tsk, tsk," she chided. "You need to watch your language, Cadence. If you don't, I'll have to gag you again, and that" she paused to finish tying off a tourniquet for my left leg and to pat my cheek and pouted, "would be a shame. I was so looking forward to hearing your screams."

The fear that I had been battling ever since I woke up now overcame the last shred of control that I had. I frantically began to try twist out of my chains by using my full body weight, in the hopes of sliding out of them. But it was to no avail. I then tried hopping up and then falling repeatedly with the hopes of breaking whatever beam the chains were wrapped around. All that did was earn me much bruised hands. I deeply regretted not taking the opportunity she gave me, when she was releasing me from the chair.

Vanessa began her eerie cackling again, asking mockingly, "What do you hope all of that will accomplish? Even if you do get loose, you can't run. If you were smart, you would save your energy. An adrenaline rush will only cause your system to crash and burn a lot sooner in the long run."

I stopped what I was doing, realizing that she was right, and ground out incredulously through the pain and exhaustion that had begun to set in, "You're …giving me … me tips?"

She shrugged as she stalked back towards me with the ominous syringe, which she quickly jabbed into my right thigh, whispering, "Well, like I said, I want you conscious for this next bit."

Casually walking back to the table, she remarked, "Oh, and to answer your previous question – the substance I just shot into your veins is a stimulant."

"Uh-huh," I gasped, for I was already beginning to feel its effects.

Effects, which she was kind enough to narrate for me with sickening delight as she cut my sweater off, "Your heart rate increasing will be the first symptom, followed by increased breathing; and judging by your panting and flushed face, it's working. The effect, which I am most interested in of this wonder drug, is your greatly improved sensory acuity. You will feel _everything_ at least tenfold. How do you feel?"

"Cold," I bit out. An understatement if there ever was one, for even without the stimulant I would have been freezing. I was hanging there in only my underwear, bra, and undershirt, completely exposed to the frigid, what I supposed to be, night air. However, with the stimulant, it was like I had just been pulled out of glacial waters and left to air dry on a hockey rink, not to mention that my knee was throbbing louder than my already pounding heart.

She laughed maliciously at my discomfort, and then with obvious relish, she began to use me as her personal punching bag with her brass knuckle accessories. She jabbed at my right kidney, and then did a one-two dead center into my abdomen, followed by a kick to sweep my right leg out from under me so that all my weight was pulling on my shoulders.

I did not scream. I refused to give her the satisfaction. Instead, I bit my lip. I bit it so hard that I did the one thing that Evan had always predicted that I would do – I bit right through it.

"Huh, no scream," she commented temporarily disappointed until she peered closer, "But you can't fool me; you're not as tough as you would have me think you are. You're crying. That hurt; it did." She nodded with satisfaction, and then began again.

Sure enough, she was right. I was crying. The combination of the drug's affects, the pain from my knees, and the thought of Evan had worked to destroy my stoic composure. This realization made me want to cry even more. There was going to be no dignity in my death, none whatsoever.

_Oh God,_ I cried and then willed for Alice to see my fate. She had seen me in a near death situation before, at the bridge. This situation surely was no different. _Please._

_

* * *

_

To make sure that Jake's presence did not interfere with Alice's already tenuous visions and to give Nessie something to do, I sent them to get Carlisle and help him pack whatever he thought that he might need for Cadie. They were also to find and send Rosalie and Emmett after us to help in the search. Esme and Bella were to go to town and keep their eyes on Ian, Tink, and Zach in case they heard anything.

Ordering everyone around like this, like I was heading one of Bastien's teams again, was the only thing that was keeping me sane. Thoughts of what could possibly be happening to Cadie were not to be permitted. It was bad enough that I was trying to figure out who could be doing whatever it was to her. The Volturi, a sexual sadistic predator, another monster from my past were a few of the possibilities that ran through my mind.

Edward drove us there, while Jasper spent his time exuding soothing emotions. I put his calming aura to good use, for it allowed me to think clearly and decide on all that I needed to do. Our first stop was to go and collect fake federal badges, which Alice had sent Jasper to order a few weeks ago after she had a strong vision of him doing so. This was hopefully going to be enough to get us clearance to view the security footage of the airport and the helpful cooperation of any airport employees who might have seen or been in contact with Cadie.

Edward got us there in record timing, just a little before six, and Jasper concluded his dealings with a seedy little man with minimal haggling, allowing us to arrive at the airport roughly an hour later. It probably helped that the three of us are very intimidating personages on a good day and I was bearing the full force of my charisma down upon him. We did the same thing with the airline ticket agents and security personnel, but certainly with more dazzle than intimidation.

The ticketing agent, Sally, told Edward that Cadie had indeed not boarded her plane and nor had she even checked-in. In her eagerness to be helpful to the overly charming Agent Cullen, (which on any other day would have been highly amusing, especially when picturing Bella's reaction), she asked her co-workers if they had seen Cadie come to their stations or even get in line. However, it seemed that Cadie had done neither.

It was a little harder to get access to the security footage, but with the combined efforts of me and Jasper, we prevailed. We were half an hour into it, when Rosalie and Emmett joined us under the guise of being probie agents who hadn't yet received their official badges. Their help sped up the tedious process with only a few false identifications made by Rosalie, who complained, "I'm sorry, but they all look alike. The video quality isn't that good."

Twenty-nine minutes after their arrival, I saw her, "There! Right there! Gabby and Mark just dropped her off at door number three!"

"At what time?" Edward patiently asked.

"She's walking in the door at exactly 4:15," I reported. "Do you have that camera?"

He nodded as he fast-forwarded to that point in time. Everyone crowded around his monitor after they too adjusted their footage to match the time stamp. Emmett exclaimed excitedly, "Yes, there she is, and if she doesn't move..." Sure enough, the woman with the cart of stacked high with luggage bumped into Cadie. He chuckled then, "Yep, there they all go. Why do women need so many bags?" Rosalie then elbowed him. "Oomph!"

"Where is she going now?" I asked anxiously as she went in the general direction that the woman had pointed.

"I have that camera," Jasper answered. "It looks like the restroom, but …curious…she's not getting into line."

Rosalie piped up then, "Uh…Evan, you're going to want to see this…"

I hastily moved over to her as she adjusted her monitor. She was right. I saw Cadie trip over a wheelchair and then collapse as she was righting it. As I was anxiously watching her being placed into the same wheelchair and swiftly carted out, a small part of me marveled at the fact that those who had seen her enter the bathroom under her own power and subsequently faint were so hastily reassured as to her welfare that they did not question the woman who made off with her.

"Isn't that the same woman who sent her in there in the first place? The one with the beanie?" Emmett asked from over my right shoulder.

"Yes," Edward confirmed from Jasper's station as they watched her being wheeled out of the bathroom. "They seem to be heading out door number four…"

"I have that one as well," I declared as I uploaded the camera in question. A few moments later, I saw that Cadie was being helped into the cab by a nervous looking driver. The oddly dressed woman had to shove a wad of cash at him to get him to stop asking questions and get back into his car after he stuffed Cadie's bag into the trunk.

Adjusting the zoom, I zeroed in on the license plate and cab numbers and then ordered, "Call the cab company, someone, and find out if this guy is still on shift. And also find out what happened to all of those bags the woman left behind. Something in them, may give us an idea as to who that woman is."

"Rosie and I will take the luggage. I don't think the security guys will mind answering a few questions from her," Emmett declared.

Alice called then, "When you talk to the cabbie, follow Edward's lead. He doesn't like cops so he'll resist yours and Jasper's influence."

"Okay, thanks, Alice," I gratefully acknowledged.

"No problem."

We were lucky and caught the guy just as he was coming off his shift and was returning his car. We followed Alice's advice, and Edward learned that the man was an illegal and that he feared being deported. So using that, we coaxed and cajoled the information out of him.

It was 8:25, when he finally rattled off the address. Cadie had been in danger for four hours now.

Looking at the address, Edward said, "That will only take us twenty minutes. Do you still want me to drive?"

I shrugged, not caring. I had originally let Edward drive, so that he would have something to do besides rattle around the inside of my head, but now it didn't matter. I doubt that driving would be enough of a distraction in my current state of mind.

Jasper turned around to look at me anxiously just as we pulled out on to the freeway; apparently, my mood had descended to new depths, and he was struggling to counteract them. I remembered then that he had once told me that part of the reason he automatically soothed the emotions of others, even though it went against their will, was because they pained him as well, especially when he didn't understand the reason for them.

"I now understand Edward's seeking out the Volturi …Without Cadie, the world is colorless. The sun will never set for me, nor will it rise. I will never again experience starry nights or view the northern lights. The world will just be darkness and shadows…emptiness," I explained. "If she's…then I – "

"Won't happen," Jasper cut me off. "We'll get there in time."

I nodded briefly trying to reign in my emotions. Succumbing to them now would do Cadie no good.

"Moreover," he continued jocularly, "I promise not to go berserk if there's blood."

I scowled at him, "Although I appreciate the fact that you have overcome and mastered your _difficulty_ – "

"Now's not the time to be joking about it?" he finished for me. "You're right," he shrugged, explaining, "I just wanted you to know that you could count on me, brother. I asked Alice before we left, just in case, and she didn't foresee me losing control."

I reached forward from the backseat and squeezed his shoulder, letting him know that I appreciated his reassurance. I also avoided meeting Edward's eyes as he looked in the rearview mirror, knowing that he knew, more intimately than Jasper did, how much their effort to help find Cadie affected me.

It was comforting to know that while I would descend into a world of grey if we didn't find Cadie in time, my family would never let it become a black hole.

* * *

I was pulled from my silent internal struggle by Vanessa's maniacal mutterings, "Now, what should I do next? Should I gouge out her eyes?" She asked this as she held my face in her hands, roughly twisting it this way and that. "… No, no, we'll save these for last. Her eyes are definitely the window to her soul …What to do, what to do…" she chanted, before digging her overly long thumbnail into my cheek. She gave me a cut that would develop into a scar like hers, if I lived that long. "Perfect!"

Instead of crying out like a large part of me was increasingly begging to do, I turned my head and bit her hand with what strength I had.

She jerked her hand back and shook it, glowering. "That was not nice, Cadie. You're going to regret that." Snatching a pair of pliers from the table, she walked up to me once more, "I'll pull out everyone of your teeth and make a necklace from the fragments – "

"Good!" I challenged, "Trophies like that are what get people like you caught!"

My spirited assertion stopped her in her tracks for a moment, making her coldly comment, "You have too much spunk in you still, I see. Well, fine, you can keep your teeth."

She reached over then for the control box and proceeded to lower me to my knees, so that she could reach her goal – my fingers.

She broke every single one of them…one joint and segment at a time. And then bashed them into a meaty pulp with a sledgehammer.

I now hoped that I would not survive this, for I would never be able to use them again.

I had always had my art. It was my one constant. When things changed or people left or things got out of control, I could lose myself in some medium or another; be it clay, paint, charcoal, oil, markers, crayon. The ability to create or at least replicate beauty was so much a part of my identity that she might as well have killed me then. What did I have left?

"You still haven't screamed yet," my tormentor noted indignantly, as she lifted my head to examine my face. "Well, no matter," she shrugged as she let go of my face to head back to the control box. "You now have the look that I had when my children were taken from me - You're dead inside."

Then raising me up to my former height, she took a swig of something with alcohol by the smell of it, and cheerily reported, "Well, don't you worry, dear. I shall be merciful and not let your rotting soul eat you alive as mine did me."

I lifted my head swiftly at this, to see if she had a gun pointed at my head like I hoped she did.

It was not to be. Instead, she held a meter long whip that had metal shards weaved through it and long metal barbs knotted at its ends.

"I do hope though that you remain in this world until the infamous thirty-nine."

With that she stepped back and began her pièce de résistance.

It was pure agony. It was unbearable to my already sensitized flesh. The barbs tore through my shirt and pierced several layers of my skin and latched onto the muscles beneath. The first lash not only shredded my shirt and snapped my bra open, but also removed those several layers of skin that it had pierced.

After the third lash, she paused to soak in the sounds of my groans and gasps, which were considerably louder than the ones that I had emitted when she shot my knee. It was then that I asked, "Have you been pr…pr…practicing?"

"Why, yes," she drawled, "So glad you noticed."

She began again. By the eighth lash, I reached the volume levels of when she broke my fingers, roaring out my curses like a lion that has been gored by a boar, if you know animals could do that. At the fourteenth one, I finally gave her what she wanted – I screamed.

I couldn't pass out because of the stimulant. I was weak from the blood loss, but the adrenaline induced by fear and the stimulant caused me to be as mentally wired and energized as an addict on a crystal meth trip - minus the bliss of euphoria.

My back had no skin to speak of, and I'm sure she could see my rib bones, shoulder blades, and spinal column in places. And still she continued.

_Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen._

I lost my footing and slipped in the blood that had pooled underneath me, dislocating my right shoulder, causing me to whimper and moan.

_Eighteen._

Some organ on my left side was punctured. My screaming and keening gained in their intensity, frequency, and duration after that.

_Nineteen. Twenty._

Oh, how I wished that I could see Evan just one more time. Even if he couldn't save me, it would be wonderful to see, hear, and feel him. To see his Byronic scowl as he frowned at me for even getting into this situation in the first place. To hear his lilting Irish accent as he alternatively soothed and scolded me. To feel his abnormally cold fingers run through my hair ever so tenderly.

To die in his arms as he embraced me, one last time.

_Twenty-one. Twenty-two. Twenty-three…_


	52. Chapter 51 The Change

Chapter 51 – The Change

We arrived in seventeen minutes and twenty-two seconds at the address that the cabbie had given us. Even before Edward had pulled to a stop, I was opening the door and hurtling myself out.

It was an old shabby brick office building. That looked to have been closed for a decade, but still in use for those who had dealings of a less than legal nature. Graffiti was spray painted all along the front and down the side facing away from the street.

Without looking at them, I asked, "Can you sense her or hear her? Either of you?"

"No, but then again, she may be unconscious," Edward replied.

I gave a quick cursory glance to make sure no one was watching, and then I kicked in the door. I sniffed the air trying to detect a trace of Cadie's unique cinnamon spice and woodsy scent in the building. My nostrils flared as I caught it. It was faint, but it was there, coming from the door to the left.

I raced over to it and jerked it open, only to find that it was a closet containing old paint cans, rusty hangers, and Cadie's duffel bag.

Edward and Jasper came up behind me, shaking their heads. "The dust on the floor isn't disturbed beyond this front room," Jasper informed me regretfully. "She's not here."

"The cab driver gave off the impression that he didn't expect her to still be here," Edward added in the same tone. "I had hoped he was wrong."

Just then Rosalie pulled up in her convertible, and Emmett hopped out, leaping over the door, booming, "Carlisle and Alice are two minutes out with the medical equipment, and apparently, Nessie is not happy that she's left behind. Black practically had to sit on her to keep her home."

"Good," Edward grunted. "She doesn't need to see what we're going to find."

I shot a frustrated look at him, "You really think we're going to find her? We don't know where her abductor took her."

He nodded, pointing out, "How else was Alice able to see her in a vision?"

"Besides, this place isn't entirely deserted. Someone must have seen something," Emmett encouraged. "Oh, and the security people said the bags belonged to a woman with three kids, who reported them stolen."

I sighed, not really expecting to hear anything different.

We were in the middle of divvying up the sections of our search grid, when a piercing scream rent the air.

We all looked at each other in shock, and then as one took off towards it. The scream sounded as if it was coming from a building about a mile northwest of us. We wouldn't have heard it, except there was gap between trains that were hurtling by. We also wouldn't have been certain as to which building she was in, except for the fact that she screamed again …and again….and again.

Edward reached it first but I was not far behind. Our destination was a multiple story factory that had once made ATVs and jet skis according to an old dilapidated sign. Not that I cared about anything other than the steel rod that was welded around the door handles.

Not wanting to search for the opening that the local vagabonds and Cadie's abductor had exploited, Edward and I began straightening it out. I was in such a near frenzy that Emmett shoved me aside and took over.

"Rosalie, make sure Carlisle – "

"Alice will know, Evan," she cut in.

"You're right," I acknowledged. "Then you, Jasper, and Emmett should circle the building and make sure whoever it is that is in there does not get away."

She and Jasper didn't wait, but split up, each taking a different side of the building. Rosalie seemed relieved to be excused, and Jasper unoffended, despite his earlier assurances that he could handle it.

Emmett rammed open the door, and then took off after Rosalie, leaving Edward and me to face the coming trial. Before I took my last breath of clean air, I said coldly, "Just think of her as Bella."

He gave a curt nod, and then followed the sounds of Cadie's screams.

They led to the back half of the factory, the main manufacturing floor. The sight that was before our eyes stopped Edward in his tracks.

But not me.

No, the sight of seeing the thin crazed bitch flogging Cadie with uninhibited enthusiasm for her macabre task was not something to be tolerated for a second longer. I roared my protest and charged at her, wrenching the whip out of her hands before she even knew who or what was upon her. I grabbed her by the neck and then violently cast her aside. I heard her crash into the wall with an audible crack, but did not care one bit for her fate.

Edward had already grabbed the control box and began to lower her down to take some relief off her shoulders.

Cupping Cadie's dazed and battered face, I released some of my untainted air to comfort her, "It's alright, Cadie. I'm here now."

She whimpered in response. I would have wrapped my arms around her and held her to take on her weight, but I was unsure where to touch her without causing her pain. She was covered in bruises, welts, and open wounds.

Carlisle and Alice came rushing in then with a gurney, and we carefully placed Cadie on it so that she was lying on her stomach. I avidly searched Carlisle's carefully guarded expression for a reaction that would dispel my fears as to the extent of her injuries. As much as I wanted to weep for the state of her hands alone, I needed reassurance that she would survive even the next hour.

Inserting a line of morphine, he suggested, "Evan, why don't you look for the key to these manacles? She does not need to be chained up like an animal any longer…" and then to Alice, "You can go now."

Alice nodded apologetically, and then whispered before rushing out, "Use the bolt cutters. It'll be faster."

We did as she recommended, and Cadie sighed in relief before drifting back into semi-conscious state.

For the next few eternal minutes, I saw nothing but Carlisle's hands as he worked tirelessly to staunch the flow of blood. I heard nothing else but his voice as he tersely ordered Edward to hang another bag of blood or for me to hand him more gauze. I blocked out all other sensations. The burning of the back of my throat, the uncomfortable urge to exhale and breathe, the rise of my venom ceased to exist. No other pain existed except the one of possibly losing the light and love of my life as I helplessly stood by.

After what seemed like a century, Carlisle stopped and looked at me, defeated, "I'm sorry, Evan…but you or I are going to have to bite her."

"No! No! No! Not like this!" I bellowed and pleaded.

He shook his head, sadly, "It's the only way she'll live."

At that moment, I heard Cadie faintly call my name, "Evan…"

I got down so that she could see my face and gently stroked her hair, "Yes, _a chuisle_?"

She worked her throat as she desperately tried to talk. Finally, she breathed haltingly, "It's okay…_mon ami_…but promise…"

She coughed up blood then. It was horrible listening to the harsh sound and to see her life force stain those once adorable features of hers. When she was done, I prompted, "Promise what?"

"Promise …Lottie and Simon…never know…"

Although she could no longer talk, she looked at me with such intense desperation that I could not help but marvel at her. As soon as I nodded my assent, she closed her eyes and squeezed my hand before returning to oblivion. A fact for which I was grateful for, because I did not want her to see what I was about to do. But yet…I regretted that I would never again see her eyes flash with that unusual shade of jade green.

Looking up at both Edward and Carlisle, I pleaded, "Stop me, if I …"

They nodded in understanding, and then I gently lifted her right wrist to my lips and kissed it before sinking my teeth into her precious flesh.

* * *

The pain that I had experienced at the hands of Vanessa had been horrible, unbearable, and ghastly.

It was nothing compared to the pain that was induced by my love.

The morphine that Carlisle had injected was doing nothing to blunt the agony that coursed through my body. It just imprisoned me. I could not move to fight off the invader, the venomous life-sucking invader that was coursing through my veins. I just had to endure or die.

I wanted to die.

I had wanted to die before, when my hands had been pulverized, but that was a wish of someone who knew that they were going to die and was trying to accept the inevitable, to convince herself that life wasn't worth living, that death was the better alternative.

I had accepted it. I had lived a good life. I had loved and been loved by an extraordinary man. I had to fight him and myself every step of the way, but it had been worth it. Now, however, I didn't want to fight anymore. I was so tired of fighting, fighting for Evan, fighting for life. I wanted it all to end.

I had at one point thought that _of course_ life with Evan forever was the better alternative compared to death. But it wasn't – not at this price. This agony was unbearable. _I choose death_.

I willed myself to die with all my might, like I willed Alice to see me, like I willed Edward to hear my mental shrieking. But it was to no avail. Pain still marched on in my veins as if a horde of ravenous fire-ants were seeking every glucose molecule to be had in my bloodstream. They worked their torturous way, undaunted, to my heart, which refused to stop beating.

_Why, oh why, wouldn't it stop beating?_

It would slow down, causing Carlisle's monitors to go on the fritz, and then it would suddenly pick up again, resuming its steady plod. _Thump-thump. Thump-thump…_

As I analyzed this phenomenon, I realized that it did so, every time Evan anxiously called for or questioned Carlisle. My heart would not give up, even though I had, because of Evan and his damn melodious Irish voice, which used to practically stop my heart with every syllable uttered.

"She's fine, Evan. Her body is responding to the venom quite well. See? Most of her contusions are gone, and her back and hands are nearly healed," Carlisle reassured.

"I know, I know, Carlisle. I can see that, but she's taken such a beating that I don't know if her heart can handle it. And I'm just afraid – I'm just afraid that she won't make it…I don't know what I'd do. I mean, look at how I reacted when I was rejected by Eliza! That's nothing compared with watching the other half of you die while you sit helplessly by…"

Carlisle took a moment to respond, but he eventually replied, "Well, I don't know if this will make any difference to you, but for me, if I were in your shoes, it would help that this time, I had this family. We won't let you slip back into your old ways. You won't be alone, Evan."

Evan sighed, "I know. It does help, but at the same time, I can't help but wonder if it would be better if that wasn't so."

"What do you mean?"

"Just that I can be cruel and I don't want to hurt Esme or Nessie or any of the rest of you. It might be better if I did leave." He paused and laughed harshly, "Then again, if I left, I would still hurt them. There's no winning."

Carlisle made a sympathetic sound and then mused, "You've changed since you've met her, haven't you?"

Evan snorted, "You have no idea. When I haven't been willing her to breathe, I've been attempting to figure out how I could have handled that woman differently."

"You mean by not killing her?"

"That, and if I hadn't killed her – what would have been the best way to neutralize her as a threat? Could I have 'persuaded' her to turn herself in? If so, should she have turned herself into the police and confessed her crimes? And how would that affect her children? Or would the better option have been to have her commit herself to a psychiatric facility under an assumed name?"

"That wouldn't have done any good. Her fingerprints would be in the system from her previous arrest," Carlisle informed him. "Besides, it's a moot point now."

"I wish that I hadn't killed her," he whispered. It was so soft I had to strain to hear it.

Silence reigned for sometime between them until Evan continued, "Did anyone tell you about the cabbie?"

"The one who gave you the address?"

"Only after we threatened him with deportation."

"What of him?"

"If Cadie doesn't make it, my old self would put him at the top of 'The List,'" he confessed quietly. "The man knew there was something suspicious, and yet he still didn't report it, not even anonymously. My 'new' self is currently still thinking of reporting him to immigration."

"No, you won't," Carlisle stated, more as a matter of fact than as an order.

"No, I won't," Evan admitted, "Because she wouldn't want me to do even that much."

Their conversation ended then, and I wanted to scream. I couldn't die now. I couldn't leave him. Evan had changed so much from when I had first met him. He had learned how to be influenced, rather than just be an influencer. He had learned to love selflessly again. Before he would have stayed or left the Cullens depending solely upon whichever helped ease his pain. This was no longer the case, and his example shamed me. I wanted release from the pain that wracked my body at the expense of his, and to abandon him would do irreparable harm.

How could I possibly say that I loved him?

The answer was horribly clear. I could not evade it. The truth was that I have never loved anyone selflessly, certainly not Eddie and not Ashley. It has always been about what they could do for me, how Evan's love made me feel. And now that the chips are down, I can't make the sacrifice.

_Thump…Thump…_

Well, that changes now.

I nearly lost my resolve, however, when the excruciating pain felt as if a thousand tongues of flame were devouring each cell in my body, and as if, simultaneously, a thousand knives made of glacial ice were stabbing into my flesh – per square centimeter. The venom was gaining in both speed and intensity.

I would have screamed, but early on someone, I could not tell who, had uttered the wish in a hushed voice that I would prove to be like Bella and not scream, fearing that I might bring unwelcome attention as they moved me to a more secure and remote location.

So I did not scream. I did not want to endanger Evan or his family. My pride had not been sufficient in preventing me from bellowing, but my love for Evan and need for him to be kept safe would be.

_Thump…Thump…_

So I coached myself in between heartbeats, making myself focus on him.

_I can do this for Evan. For him, I can live. Because I love him, I will endure._

_Evan…Evan…_

_Good. Just focus on him. Listen to his voice._

_Evan-Evan. Evan-Evan._

I listened to Evan curse himself for sending me away, for leaving me unprotected, for letting his pride put me endanger. His self-castigation gave me another reason not to express the torment that I was in. He would never forgive himself.

I listened to Jasper tell Evan that he and Emmett had burned the factory and all the evidence of their being there, including Vanessa. The crack that Evan had heard apparently had been the sound of her neck being broken. I did not mourn her and was grateful that Lottie and Simon would never know that she had become a sadistic homicidal maniac. They may have issues of wondering where their mother was for the rest of their life, but at least they would not know that.

I listened with silent relief to Alice as she reported that Gabby had bought her imitation of me. I assumed that Nessie had told her about my arrangement with my mother. I listened to Esme as she consoled Evan and told him how silly he was for blaming himself for all of this. I listened to Emmett comment on the irony of the fact that after all the fuss over the vampire bastard it was a skinny crazy woman who managed to do me in. I listened to Jake grumble about their being another bloodsucker and Bella wonder how quickly I could learn control of my thirst.

I listened and I endured.

I listened and I endured until both the pain and my heart stopped and the morphine wore off and I was able to open my eyes.

And what a glorious vision of light and color did I behold.

* * *

**AN: **Wow, almost done. Thanks for sticking with Cadie and Evan for this terribly long but hopefully entertaining journey.

I'm editting the final chapter, so it will be posted soon, but in the mean time, I hope you enjoy my little foray into the world of poetry... Just click next. Or review this chapter and then click next. Or review this chapter, click next, read, and review that too. Or... ; )


	53. Chapter 52 Scarlet, Jade, and Amber

Scarlet, Jade, and Amber

_I stand at a precipice, _

_The world at my feet,_

_And gaze upon infinite possibility:_

_A panorama of fresh-laden snow._

_It's untouched by my hand, breath, or pen,_

_Beware, white world of mine,_

_For that shall change in time._

_...  
_

I drift in a fog,

A haze, if you will,

Indifferent and unaffected

By my bleak world of bland.

"Nothing's new under the sun,"

And too right, I would be,

If, through her curtain of rust,

She had not peeked at me,

With her eyes of jaded verdigris.

...

_I took a chance, I took a step, _

_And leapt from my lofty height, and now – _

_Tumbling, tumbling down I go_

_Into a cosmos of fairy tales,_

_With monsters and heroes galore,_

_But none are properly labeled, you see._

_So, I need a faithful and trusted companion_

_To be my true and noble guide._

_Would you please, be he?_

_...  
_

Her faint life-light pierces

My dreary, drizzling domain,

And like a man born blind

With his first glimpse of sunshine,

I howl in agony and hide.

But soon I draw near

As if a moth to its doom,

For captivated am I

By her innocent perfume.

'Tis something so rare

That by my oath, I swear

It shall not be defiled.

...

_All is light, warm, and__ gold,_

_As our friendship__ blooms – _

_But of course,_

_Shadows__ must creep,_

_And __sorrows__ seep_

_Into our Canvas Idyll._

_I teeter on the edge._

_The Cliffs of Madness loom._

_Do you not see?_

_I need not a chivalrous Prince of Charm, _

_Or a Joe of Norm,_

_But a steadfast and faithful you!_

_For, I am pushed by circumstance,_

_And propelled by a foe I do not know_

_Into the abyss below_

_Where my hope of__ amber dims._

_...  
_

What was muted before

Is now a vibrant spectrum,

Effervescent and pulsating.

Green glows emerald

And blue blazes bold,

Dancing across my senses

As her laughter caresses

And her ire awakens

Feelings lost, long ago.

.

Yet, is happiness to be mine?

No, for reality invades,

And scarlet cascades.

A river of her crimson flows.

...

_'Tis the end of the line,_

_And all that could have been mine_

_Is taken in brutal fashion._

_Scarlet purloins_

_The light of my __jade_

_As I agonizingly fade_

_Into the Void._

_.  
_

_Yet, out of the gloom,_

_My iridescent knight,_

_My love and my life,_

_Exchanges my fate_

_For that of ever-changing _

_Onyx__ and __Amber__._


	54. Chapter 53 Epilogue: Aurora Novus

**AN: **Thank you all so much for sticking to the end! Thank you to those who took the time to review:

Queenamz, Luci=quinassi, Minuet Lora, MelanieBelikov, Umeplumblossom, Melissa Writer, SilverAngel1234, Jeasterl, LordXeenTheGreat, vampire . ditto . 19, Lewislahver127

And to those who consistently reviewed: Life4theking, A Nonny Mouse 23, xxBoyMeetsGirlxx - You have my _undying_ gratitude. It meant a lot to this newbie of a writer : )

This chapter is dedicated to all of you.

p.s. - if you are interested in a Tanya storyline or a Firefly storyline that I have in the works, keep me or add me as an author alert.

Anywho, Enjoy!

* * *

Epilogue – Aurora Novus

_Two and half years later…_

"So you guys are finally getting married," Zach remarked, making it more of question than a statement.

I took a few more steps down the trail, before answering contentedly, "Yeah, we are."

It was Christmas Eve, and Evan and I had invited my three families: Gabby and Mark, Ian and Sukey, and Tink and Zach, to a resort to celebrate the holiday. It was the first time I had seen them since that fateful day – and unbeknownst to them, the last time.

At dinner, Evan and I had announced our intention to tie the knot. This had been received quite well. The women had immediately demanded to see the "rock," which was a sapphire rose with a pearl center, and the men had immediately begun making toasts. If Evan hadn't been so quick to deftly step out of reach, Tink would have broken his hand while trying to slap him on the back in congratulations. Zach had been quiet though, which is why the two of us were walking alone now in the gardens.

"Do you have a date set?"

My no longer beating heart nearly broke at the awkwardness of our conversation. It was so polite and stilted compared to the friendly jocularity and ease we used to have. I shook my head, saying, "No, we can't seem to agree on it." I grimaced, "Evan wants a June wedding."

Zach snorted, and knowingly finished, "And you don't want to be a traditional June bride."

"Yep," I confirmed, and then switching topics, I asked, "So…is there anyone special in your life? You haven't mentioned what's-her-name to me in long time."

He stopped walking to look at me quizzically, which made me tease, "Oh come on now. There can't be that many girls so that you don't know who I'm talking about! You met her when she brought in her car to fix her window, because some kid slap-shot a hockey puck into it…"

"Oh yeah, Juliette," he recalled finally. "It was her punk of a neighbor, and – er – we're no longer together."

"Obviously," I commented dryly. "But why?"

He sheepishly answered, "Because it became really weird once I found out she was Louis' half-sister."

"Oh, that would do it," I acknowledged.

"But…to answer your earlier question," he continued impishly, "I wouldn't mind bumping into Sukey's cousin again, sometime…You know, like, possibly at a certain someone's upcoming wedding…?"

"Huh, I suppose that can be arranged, but where did you 'bump' into her before?" I asked curiously.

"At Ian and Sukey's wedding," he replied softly. Then switching to a more accusatory tone, "You know the one you didn't even bother to attend?"

I sighed, for now we had come to the heart of the matter, the real reason he had been so distant from me lately in our phone conversations.

"I do know," I admitted regretfully. "And believe me, Zach, if I could have been there I would…"

"Yeah, yeah, you were sick," he batted aside the reason that I had given at the time and which now explained the differences in my physical appearance. I, of course, hadn't been. But I really couldn't have shown up to my father's bright sunny day wedding more radiant than the bride, now could I?

"But you've been better since then, out of quarantine or whatever, and you only now show up for us in a hasty visit that you've managed to squeeze in between snorkeling in the Bahamas and skiing at the latest and greatest resort with the _Cullens_," he spat the last part out, his chest heaving as he aired out his grievances.

Taking a deep breath, I prepared myself for the best and most important acting job I would ever do in my life. I had to allay his suspicions and restore our friendship because I would never get another chance to do this. This was the price I had to pay for being a member of the Cullen family.

"Zach, that's not true," I began letting the hurt I was feeling and the exhaustion I wasn't seep into my voice. "I have only recently recovered. I mean, you saw me! The disease practically leeched all the pigment from my skin! And besides that, the trip to the Bahamas was under doctor's orders. I needed rest, relaxation, and warm sunshine. The latter is not something that you can get around here after August."

He squirmed a little, perhaps feeling a might guilty, but still staring stonily at me, so I went for the jugular, "You know what your real problem is? You're jealous of the Cullens."

"Am not!"

"You are too," I accused sadly. "Ever since Evan joined me in Europe, you have said their name like it leaves a nasty taste in your mouth."

"That's because it wasn't just him!" he admitted. "The whole _freaking_ family joined you in Europe too, when they were supposed to be in the States. It's weird, you have to admit that. They're _always _there, everywhere you go, and you are never here."

"They're not a cult, if that's what you are getting at," I reassured, smiling. "And yes, it does seem odd that the whole family wound up joining us across the Pond, but it wasn't like they all came at once..." I sighed, before plodding on with my rehearsed Cullen party line: "Edward got accepted into a study abroad program at Cambridge the same year that Nessie got accepted into that dramatic arts school in London, so Bella tagged along too. And Alice decided she wanted to study fashion in Paris, so she and Jasper followed not long after. The rest of them didn't come until I became sick, because Evan needed them. He was an emotional wreck."

"And I suppose, he just dropped out of his prestigious architect program to follow you around Europe while you tried to find yourself?" he asked cynically.

"Well, that may have been part of it," I agreed hesitantly; however, I was quick to defend my lover by remarking dryly, "But despite being a traditional man and wanting things like June weddings, he does occasionally have his rebellious moments, and leaving school to traipse around Europe appealed to him." The corners of my mouth twitched at memories of Evan's wayward and frivolous behavior. He's still such a man-boy.

While he digested this elaborately concocted story, I thought back on how the past few years had really been. I had not immediately gone to Europe after I had turned. The Cullens wanted me to stay away from large groups of humans while I was a newborn. This was prudent because while I had been fortunate as Bella with the ability to control my bloodlust, it took me awhile to adjust to everything else about being a vampire, such as how to act normal around humans. Jake had gotten a twisted thrill out of being my personal tutor. He was more like a demented drill sergeant.

In order to keep up the deception that Alice had begun by her phone call to my mother, we photo-cropped me into pictures that they had of the sights in Europe, and I wrote letters with sketches of places I had not yet seen. (I eventually did get to go, and it was everything that I dreamed of and more, but that's beside the point.) In addition to these deceptions, I had to be coached in what to say and how to act before every phone call I made with my friends and family. As abhorrent as I found the task, I was grateful to the Cullens for letting me keep in contact with them.

The highly sophisticated pretense had to come to an end though. Europe trips don't go on forever, and one can only make so many excuses to avoid sunny day celebrations. That is why Evan and I were visiting with them now. I wanted to see them one last time and for their final memory of me to be happy one before we mysteriously "died" in a skiing accident in a few days, our bodies never to be recovered. I _needed_ Zach to forgive me, so that tonight could be a joyous occasion, rather than just a bittersweet one.

"Oh, alright," he finally said. "I'm sorry for being a ninny."

I laughed, "That's okay. I understand. The older you get, the more you become like your father."

"Oh, ouch!" he exclaimed, pressing a hand to his chest as if wounded. "Low blow!"

"Yeah, but you didn't de-ny it," I sing-song teased.

He grinned, and then we moved on to more cheerful topics, such as Emmett's most recent Halloween antic that involved a wheelbarrow, a flaming cloak, and his roaring: "There will be no surviviors! I have come here for your _souls_!"

I knew our customary method of interacting was restored, much to my relief, by the time we finished touring the gardens and returned to the festivities, when he only half-facetiously bemoaned, "And no one realized that he was doing a Fezzik impression? What _has _this world come to?"

After carefully hugging everyone so that I would not crush them and saying my goodbyes, Evan and I made our way to his truck. We were leaving everyone with the impression that we had to drive through the night so that we could join his family at the ski lodge for breakfast in the morning.

"Thank you, Evan," I whispered.

He wrapped his arm around me and replied just as quietly, "No problem."

After a moment, he asked curiously, "So how was it, eating rabbit food, again?"

"Eh," I replied noncommittally. I had to do it in order to maintain my image of being a vegetarian, but because I had been plied with so many questions by everyone, I managed to avoid taking more than a few bites. "How was eating bloodless pig?" I asked disinterestedly, referring to the honey baked ham that had been the main entrée.

"Eh," he echoed my response.

We walked sedately in silence until I sighed, "They are going to be _so_ heartbroken. Did you hear all the stuff that my mom was saying? She couldn't wait to go dress shopping with me. She was already planning everything. You could see it. I wouldn't be surprised if she constructed a model of both the ceremony and the reception by New Year's."

He squeezed my hand in sympathy, while chuckling a little at my spot on description of her enthusiastic response. His soft chuckling turned into a hearty laugh then, causing me to snap, "What can possibly be so funny?"

He snickered, as he explained, "I'm sorry. It's just that Nessie is getting as much pleasure from planning our 'funeral' as your mother is from our wedding."

I grinned back at him, "She is, isn't she?"

"It's positively ghastly, it is," he sniffed in dramatic disapproval.

Following his lead, I pursed my lips, "Terribly morbid. That girl should be thinking about her own wedding."

I felt his laughter rumble deep in his chest when he pulled me close into his side. The latter action was most likely prompted by my own deep sigh. He knew how I felt about Jacob and Nessie's upcoming nuptials.

It's not like I wasn't excited for them. I was. This moment was a long time in coming, especially for Jake. It's just that every time it is talked about, an intense wave of envy and sadness engulfs me. At their wedding, they get to have all their family there. The Cullens, the La Push pack and extended family members, and Charlie, (Bella's father), will all be there to witness their happy day, while on my wedding day only the Cullens, their extended family, and Jake were there.

Evan and I had gotten married in Ireland, a year and a few months after I was turned. My comment to Zach about Evan wanting a June wedding had been true. However, I had let him assume incorrectly as to what my reason was for not wanting it. The real reason was that I had refused to taint my memories of our special day with the anniversary of my most unpleasant ones.

Instead of the ceremony being at the the old millhouse, in which Alice could have bedecked the Ivory Tower in all its glory, it had been held in a quaint little chapel in Ireland, not too far from the town where his parents had emigrated from. Instead of Ian, Carlisle had given me away. Instead of my mother's lapis lazuli inlaid combs, my hair had been pinned up by Esme's pearl inlaid ones. Instead of Zach, Morgan, and Louie demonstrating their inventive gags, perfected since Ronnie's matrimonial hoopla, Emmett and Jasper (and possibly Jake) rivaled for the title King of Practical Jokes rather than best man.

Not that these are bad things, it's just that they are second best.

Although I understood why Vanessa fixated on me and I pitied her for it, I still cursed her to this day. Her brutality had denied me the years of opportunities to be with my friends and family that mine and Evan's compromise would have granted me before I was turned, if I so chose. (I now knew that Evan would have eventually caved. After all, he had decided to come after me even before he knew I was in danger. But we both wished that my turning had been the result of a voluntary, uncoerced decision on both our parts rather than out of necessity.)

Moreover, even though I had become immortal and practically invincible, I still had to deal with the traumatic scars she had left upon my psyche, which no venom on earth could burn away. I had at one point savagely attacked Emmett when he had tried to pin me in a pile of leaves while we were play wrestling. It had taken three people to pull me off of him, and Evan a whole day to calm me down. Since then Jasper, who has strangely included me among his favorites, and Carlisle have been working with me to get over my horrific experience. But I still have a long way to go.

Even Vanessa's threatening phone calls had caused me problems. Evan had gone through the roof and could barely talk to me for a week, when I accidentally let slip that I had never told anyone about them. His anger was justified since I had been the one to lecture him on his pride and how it was hurting me; all the while, it was my pride that was putting me in danger. Still, none of this would ever have been an issue, if Vanessa had, _just for once_, taken responsibility for her actions and gotten help.

Conversely, my relationship with Rosalie improved. I'm still a little fuzzy on the details, but I think it had something to do with being savagely shredded at Death's Door instead of consciously choosing to walk into the light. Whatever the reason, it's comforting to know that I no longer rate in her level of affections as being the same as the bacteria living off of the Mutt's feces. In fact, she has begun to randomly acknowledge my presence, aside from balefully glowering at me and casting derisive looks of contempt. These increasing-more-often-than-not moments include occasional discussions about the performance of my latest gift from my husband (a midnight blue Audi TTS) and the ridiculousness of Emmett's repeated requests for me to paint a portrait of his wife in the nude.

More seriously though: Did I regret not having that extra time to decide if the cost would have been worth it, like Evan feared?

And the answer (of course) is that: No, I did not.

I did wonder, however, what I would have been like if I had been given that time to get a handle on my feelings for Evan. I can only imagine how many problems could have been avoided between the two of us, if I had been more mature before my character became frozen in time. It definitely would have helped if I felt more certain of my own identity apart from Evan. A bride should not have to struggle with her feelings of being the weak and possibly co-dependent one, the damsel-in-distress or of being overwhelmed by the very presence of her willful groom. Or guilty for forcing Evan to bear this burden as well.

My gloomy ruminations were interrupted when Evan asked me cheerfully, "So where to next?"

"You mean after we cause a minor avalanche for our dramatic death scene?" I asked with mock exasperation.

"Yeah that," he replied, whistling contentedly.

I thought about it for a moment, and then replied with false indifference, "How about Alaska or the Artic?"

He stopped whistling, and asked, surprised, "Why that?"

I shrugged nonchalantly, trying to maintain the charade, "Oh, I had heard about a bet or some such thing between you and Emmett concerning polar bears and grizzlies…?"

I raised an eyebrow and looked quizzically at him, but the corners of my mouth began to twitch, causing his tawny eyes to glint with understanding. Before I knew it, he had me pinned to the side of his truck, as he huskily laughed, "Ha, ha, very funny…"

I opened my mouth to say, "I thought so," but was cut off by his mouth against mine.

The passionate kiss continued for sometime and at one point he had opened the door, picked me up in the cab, and placed me in the front seat. Who knows how long it might have gone on or how far it would have gotten, if my cell phone hadn't begun to ring. As it was, he was still nuzzling my neck as I read my text message.

"Who is it?" he mumbled, not really all that curious.

"It's Alice," I gasped, sinking my fingers into his hair. "She says that we had better stop and get going, if we want to beat the blizzard that's going to shut down the highway."

He growled and then looked up at me, his eyes questioning impishly.

I sighed and reluctantly answered his unspoken but obvious query, "No, I don't want to stop, but she's right. We should."

He nodded, and then grimaced, "Alright, but just give me a moment."

I smiled self-satisfied as he took several to walk slowly, the long way around the truck to the driver's side. I started the engine to warm it up, thinking back on the year and three months of our marriage.

It was hard work being married to Evan. The Cullens never had such a consistently disharmonious couple. Not even volatile and demonstrative Rosalie and Emmett could claim that title. Not that, this was unsurprising. We fought like a bickering old couple, which may or may not have been just like when we were dating.

I had once noted this to Evan, as I lay sprawled across him after "winning" yet another round of tonsil-hockey. He had just smirked and suggestively observed that "Yes, we do. But, we don't _make up _like a bickering old couple."

Nessie had made a disgusted face upon hearing that as she walked into my studio.

Evan, ignoring my laughter at Nessie, inquired, "Do you know what is the best part of having an immortal wife?"

"Great sex?" Nessie asked impudently. She was right. I had quickly come to find out that make-up sex, well, sex in general, had surpassed all my expectations. It was fan-Bloody-tastic!

"That," he nodded and then winked at me, "And the fact that since the 'until death do us part' clause doesn't really apply, we're stuck with each other forever, no matter how insane we drive each other."

"That's the best part?" Nessie asked incredulously.

"Well, yeah," I answered as I stood up to finish painting my Greek mask of comedy. Althougth he had not phrased his point eloquently, I understood where he was coming from. And while I was touched, I refused to spoil the mood of lighthearted banter. So I facetiously rejoined, "What's the point of living forever, if you have no one to argue with?"

"Precisely," Evan acknowledged cheekily and with a hint of relief that I had understood his point. He then sighed with pseudo self-pity and drolly remarked, "Even though that means I have an eternity of losing those _very same _arguments more often than not…"

Being married to Evan was hard work, but the pain that I endured and the sacrifices I had made to attain it had been worth it. I loved him. He made me laugh. He made me howl in anger and frustration. He was Evan, charming, pigheaded Evan, and I loved him. And for some reason, he loved me.

Once Evan had gotten into the truck, I stretched luxuriously and teased, "Don't worry, Evan. There'll be plenty of time while we're ensconced in our room at the lodge…and well, the countless days after that…"

He grunted as he moved the truck into gear, "Minx."

I quirked an eyebrow, having finally managed to get the hang of it, and retorted with equal fondness, "Rogue."

"Not an ass?"

"Not today."

And with that we drove off, severing my ties to the last vestiges of what had once been Cadence Rowan Darby and embracing the forever, everlasting identities of Mr. and Mrs. Darby-Keegan, the bickering, but loving, vampire couple.

* * *

The End and The Beginning

- much love,

Margot Vizzini-Montoya


End file.
